The Bloody Puzzle (ON HOLD)
by NoMoreTears
Summary: Young Alexi, trained from a young age to be the best in her field, may have finally met her match; a killer who always seems to be 10 steps ahead of her. As her trust and resolve crumbles away, she'll have to put her fate into the hands of someone she had never expected: the very man she helped try to kill.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Fear

"They've heard about you. They know you're coming. " she paused for a moment. "But they don't know you really exist."

I gripped the doorknob, taking her words in. "They'll learn."

She laughed quietly. "Oh, yes. They will. Take care, Alexi. Make sure not to expose yourself. It would put us all in a bad position."

I turned to face her. Cold, dark eyes stared back at me. "I won't. Unlike you." I grinned.

"Just be careful."

"Mhm."

I left.

. . .

I walked the few blocks to my high school, tired, and not wanting to start school this late in the year. Not wanting to start school at all. I'd much rather be free of the hassle of public schools, and work. Being surrounded by annoying, obnoxious teens is not something I want to do.

I still haven't adjusted to the weather, either. It's February now, and a solid eighty-five degrees. Normally, I'd be wearing a coat. I guess I shouldn't complain though, it does remind me of home.

After walking a few more blocks, I approached the front steps of the school.

. . .

"Just think-one more year, and then you're out on your own!" the counselor smiled nervously. "Isn't that exciting?"

Sitting here, exhibiting no emotion whatsoever, I think, is scaring her. So I smile. "Very much so."

_Not much of a talker are you?_

"Not much of a talker are you?" she took a deep breath.

I grinned. Still got it, I thought. Everybody is so damned predictable these days. "Not really. More of a listener."

"Ah, I can tell." she seemed to relax a bit. "I bet you can't wait 'til you're done with school, huh?"

I nod feverishly. "Oh, I can't!"

She laughed a little too loudly. "Well, in the meantime, let's look at your records. Shall we?"

"Of course," I fold my arms across my chest.

_It's hard to think that a person like this has killed so many people. But then again…it's not. I'm no better than she is. But I have standards…or does that even count when you're a killer? It's a moral dilemma, I suppose. I believe what I do is right…just. I'm not a cretin like those others. I'm sane. _

_And doing the world a favor._

I watched her stare intently at my file. She looks pretty young. Mid twenties, maybe. She definitely has a boyfriend. One of those overly macho jock types. Suits her, unfortunately.

_I wonder what she would look like with her eyelids pinned to her forehead…_

I shook the thought from my head, mentally reprimanding myself for thinking something like that whilst in the presence of others. If I hadn't stopped…my desire to kill would have outweighed the need to remain in control…and like she said, I could've put us all in a bad position. This is a horrible place to kill….I'd have to take so many people out…and it is tempting…it's been a while since I've had blood on my hands.

_But, a massacre that large? There's no getting away with that._

_Although, I wish there was._

"So how does that sound?"

"Huh?" I said, confused.

"For your AP classes? Science and English. Do you think that you can handle it? I mean, not that you can't- your grades are intimidating. It's just, well, I don't know. I wanted to check with you first, you know?"

"Ms. Cameron, you're rambling. Are you okay? You seem a little nervous." I tried to catch my breath.

The woman started to shake. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just wanted to-"

"Check with me first? I know."

Ms. Cameron swallowed hard. "Okay, all of your other classes will be basic then? Alright. Let me print out your schedule."

She walked past me. I could practically see her fear rolling off of her in waves. I felt it wash over me. My heart pumped faster. I licked my lips, my bloodlust rising.

Why is she this afraid of me? So soon, too. I would rather the fear build, than for it to come so quickly. It's fun to toy with the victims. Then again, maybe this could end fast, and I can leave.

I suppose Nikki was right; maybe she does know that I am here. That Death has finally arrived. She has been getting sloppy lately. Ms. Cameron knows that she is going to get caught.

My guidance counselor shoved the paper in my face and took her seat behind her desk. "Here you go, Alexi. Have a nice day." she mumbled.

"You too, Ms. Cameron." I got up and waved my goodbye.

I stopped in the door way of her office. "Oh, Ms. Cameron, by the way…"

. . .

Silence. Not a single person roams these halls, with the exception of a few security guards, that is. I've been walking for five minutes now and haven't seen a single marker for a room 309. I keep walking. Further down this empty hall, I see a placard high up on the wall. It reads ' Rooms 305-310'.

Perfect. I'm only a half hour late.

I rolled my eyes. "_Only_ a half hour…" I muttered quietly to myself.

I turn down the corridor that houses my first class, and begin looking for the room number. 306, 307, 308-there! Thank god. I stop in front of the door and contemplate whether or not I should actually go to class, or sneak out of a side door somewhere and walk home. Before I can make my decision the door opens.

_Dammit…_

"Hi, there! You must be the new student?"

"Ah, yes. I am."

"Alexi Segur, right?"

I nodded.

"Come on in. I'm Mr. Ashby. Guys," he called out to the students, "this is the new student I was talking about. Her name is Alexi Segur."

A few of them turned to look at me. Some said hello. Most of them could care less about my being here, and honestly, that's fine with me. I'd rather be invisible. Being unseen is rather beneficial.


	2. Introduction

Silence. Not a single person roams these halls, with the exception of a few security guards, that is. I've been walking for five minutes now and haven't seen a single marker for a room 309. I keep walking. Further down this empty hall, I see a placard high up on the wall. It reads ' Rooms 305-310'.

Perfect. I'm only a half hour late.

I turn down the corridor that houses my first class, and begin looking for the room number. 306, 307, 308-there! Thank god. I stop in front of the door and contemplate whether or not I should actually go to class, or sneak out of a side door and walk home. Before I can make my decision the door opens.

"Hi, there! You must be the new student?"

"Ah, yes. I am."

"Alexi Segur, right?"

I nodded.

"Come on in. I'm Mr. Ashby. Guys," he called out to the students, "this is the new student I was talking about. Her name is Alexi Segur."

A few of them turned to look at me. Some said hello. Most of them could care less about my being here, and honestly, that's fine with me. I'd rather be invisible. Being unseen is rather beneficial.

I took my seat in the back of the room behind a cluster of sleeping students. Their snoring sounds like a swarm of bees. I contemplate waking them up to bring an end to the noise, but decide against it. I don't want to make a scene on my first day. Drawing attention isn't good. No, not at all. I sigh and fold my arms across my chest, scanning the room, taking in every detail.

The class is fairly large…about thirty or so students can fit in here. The walls are plastered with gaudy, inspirational posters, reminding us to do the right thing. To make good choices. And I'm doing exactly that. Timing may be the only thing that will cause a problem. But like everything else, I can find a way to deal with that.

"Alexi?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

The teacher smiled. "Already zoning out, huh? You want to tell us a little about yourself?"

"Hmph. If there is anything that I can tell you, sure. Why not…" I mumbled.

Mr. Ashby gave a knowing smile. "Then tell us what you can, Ms. Segur."

Mr. Ashby has been a part of our…Brotherhood for as long as I can remember. Nikolai is the one that informed me about my beloved guidance counselor, Ms. Sarah Cameron. He told me all of her secrets, what her extra curricular activities were.

After learning about her, I just had to come and visit. Lucky her, no?

She is extremely paranoid, and is aware of the Brotherhood, though still believes it to be just a myth told by elders to instill fear into the hearts of naughty children. I recall as a child often being told about us; that if someone did something bad, say, steal from the local market, we would come to steal them away from their parents. Fools, they are. No, we do much more than that.

And you will, in time, learn of what that is. Though hopefully you are catching on. If not, don't fret; you will learn.

They all do.

Now, as I was saying…Ms. Cameron has killed many innocent people, and believes her wrongdoing to be nothing more than the riddance of those who serve no purpose. In her twisted mind, the murders are justified. But I see no reason as to why these people deserve to die. I suppose they couldn't live up to the standards she had set for those unknowing souls. Sad, really.

But now she knows that we have found her. Somehow, she knows. And yet, she doesn't believe that we exist. It is hard to comprehend, I know, believe me. While in her office, the moment our eyes met, I saw the fear inside of her, watched it envelope her body, take her over.

I had to restrain myself from reacting to her terror. So I stayed quiet. Watched her try and calm herself down. What made her so scared? That still puzzles me.

I have my suspicions.

Only time will allow me the luxury of discovering whether or not I am correct.

So for now, I wait.

"Well, should I stand in front of the class, or..?" I asked.

"No, you can stay in your seat if you like."

"Okay. Well, my name is Alexi. I moved here about a week ago from New Jersey-it's a lot different down here. I kinda miss it. But, it's nice being in warm weather all the time. Umm…ah, I don't know what else to say. I'm drawing a blank here, Mr. Ashby." I shrugged.

"Hmm. Do you have any hobbies? What about a potential career path? What's your favorite food? Color? I could go on and on, dear."

"No kidding," I muttered.

"You seem to forget that I can hear you, Alexi."

"Oh, no, I didn't forget. That was meant for you to hear." I smirked. "But, uhh…hobbies? Ah, I love to read, write, and draw. I'm thinking about going to an art school somewhere-I'd really like to be a tattoo artist. My favorite food? Definitely pasta. Could eat that shi- stuff everyday."

My slip up caused a few students to laugh. I smiled a little.

"I see you have a foul mouth, eh?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I do. It's a curse. Or a gift, depending on the way you look at it."

"Plenty of things can be perceived as a curse. But a foul mouth? Alexi, I think there are a few things that are more worthy of being called a curse." his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Yes, I know," I glanced around the room. Kids were staring now, puzzled at what was being said.

"So, is the introduction over with?"

He shook his head. "Ah, yes. It is."

Thank God.


	3. God, Kill Me Now

"Plenty of things can be perceived as a curse. But a foul mouth? Alexi, I think there are a few things that are more worthy of being called a curse." his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Yes, I know," I glanced around the room. Kids were staring now, puzzled at what was being said.

"So, is the introduction over with?"

He shook his head. "Ah, yes. It is."

_Thank God._

Mr. Ashby continued on lecturing the students, and I took this opportunity to sit and think.

I honestly cannot even say why I moved down here. It is unnecessary. I was given a simple task, but why I had to stay? It is something I can't even begin to comprehend. I don't know why they would want to prolong my stay here in Miami, but the longer I do stay, there is more of a chance of being caught.

Maybe there is more to this, than just a simple elimination of an unwanted being?

Who knows.

Only time will tell.

The sharp crackling of the loudspeaker made a few students, including myself, jump at the sudden breaking of the silence. The principal, I assumed it was, cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Faculty and students, could I please have your undivided attention for just a moment? Now then, the school is being placed on lockdown. No one, not even security, is being permitted to walk through the halls unless escorted by police. The officers should be arriving shortly, but until then, no one moves. Doors must be locked, and lights turned off. Note that this not a drill, but in fact a true lockdown," he said, rushing the words out. He paused a moment to catch his breath, and continued on speaking. He sounded scared.

"Once everything has calmed down, we will move the students into the auditorium. What has gone on in front of our very own eyes, without raising any such alarm, disturbs me…to no end. Please, I beg you all for your cooperation in this matter. Thank you."

The hissing of the speakers came to an end. The words of the principal remained hanging in the air like a dark cloud about to unleash a nasty, raging storm upon us all. The other students in the classroom began discussing what he had said, trying to comprehend the significance of it all, in a dull murmur. I, unlike the rest of the class, sat there expressionless. Focused more on the tonality of the man's voice.

Mr. Ashby sat down at an unoccupied desk before me, and stared at me for a moment.

"Yes?" I said. "What is it?"

He smirked. "That's no way to address your teacher, Alexi. But," he added, his smile growing, "I must say, you look positively unaffected by the news our dear principal has just given us."

"I imagine there must have been a death, but who?" I questioned, fearing the answer. "And how? A heart attack? Or…murder."

He smiled again, but this time it was strained. There was no amusement in his eyes. "Your lovely guidance counselor, along with two other unknowns. Possibly secretaries." He shifted in his seat. "And from the sound of it, it might have been a murder."

My face paled, and I stared at him incredulously, refusing to believe what he had just said. I looked around the room to see if any other students were listening, but saw that they were all immersed in their own quiet conversations. A few of them had their curious eyes trained on us. I glared at them, which caused them to avert their eyes away from Nikolai and I . My voice dropped down to a whisper, and I hesitated asking him a question. "Who fucking did it?"

He shook his head. "That's just it. I have no idea. I can't think of anybody who could bypass our school's security like that, and just slaughter three people. And have the audacity to just walk out of the building-or better yet, to continue on walking among us. Though, I can't really say much, can I? Aha. Whoever did it though, is one sneaky son-of-a-bitch."

I laughed quietly to myself. "Yeah…no kidding." I sighed. "I wonder how they could have done this without being caught. Must be skilled."

"Might be one of us." He leaned toward me, his eyes narrowing. "It better not have been you, though. Otherwise you'd have severely screwed us all."

I shook my head feverishly. "It wasn't. I'm smarter than that. I take great pride in completing my tasks with nothing less than perfection. I wouldn't have finished it so quickly... I wanted her to trust me first. I wanted to get onto her good side, become a friend of some sort, before I made my move."

"I see… Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait to find out what exactly is going on, hmm? We're just about as blind as these other fools," he pointed his thumb backward at the cluster of students.

They had no idea what was going on.

Unaware, and uninvolved…

Oh, if only I could be one of them right now.


	4. The Hyde Brothers

Chapter Four: The Hyde Brothers

Cole Hyde walked up the steps to the school, nervous, but prepared to start his first day of school in Miami, Florida.

. . .

I approached the front doors with great trepidation, and stopped about a foot away. I wrapped my arms around my sides, and willed myself to reach out and take hold of the door knob. But, I would not budge. My body, frozen with fear, remained in the same spot. My eyes darted around, but soon halted on my reflection.

The face that stared back at me was ridden with fear.

The figure in the glass looked as if it were about to collapse.

Footsteps broke the trance, and I quickly took my book bag off and undid the zipper, pretending to be looking for something. While aimlessly rifling through my bag, a hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped, shocked that this person is interacting with me. I had thought they would walk right past me, paying no mind to the truant student, looking for an excuse to leave the campus. But I am wrong. I turned toward the person whose hand was still on my shoulder.

"Forget something?" the man said. He is of average height-short, strawberry blonde hair. A small amount of facial hair covers his strong jaw line. My eyes trailed down to his torso. Underneath his light thermal can see the toned muscles of his abdomen and chest. His shirt seemed to be stained. The closer he came toward me, the more a metallic smell wafted over me.

Blood?

My observant, wandering eyes made their way back to his face, only to see his dead eyes staring at me expectantly.

The emptiness inside his eyes intrigues me. The same dead stare the two of us both share, for a moment, mad me think that I am not alone. That there are more out there like me.

_I already know there are more like me, what am I saying?_

_I'm paired with one of them now.._

I shook my head and faked a smile, hopefully fooling him into thinking I'm fine. "No," I said, clearing my throat, 'I'm fine. Just a little nervous."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, it's my first day of school. I just registered yesterday," I smiled sheepishly.

He nodded, smiling a little. "I see… So, I assume you're new to the area?"

"Mhm," I said. "We moved here about two weeks ago."

The mystery man adjusted the strap of his bag. "Where from?"

"New Jersey. The armpit of the U.S.," I smiled.

He chuckled softly. It was almost inaudible. "So…are you getting used to the heat?"

Small talk seemed almost painful for him.

I sighed. "No, I'm not. Actually," I added, "I hate the heat. I think I'd be better off in Alaska…" I muttered.

_Who is he?_

"So, are you a teacher here?" I asked, finally getting the question out.

"No," he said, " I'm not."

My face paled. "So, what are you? Someone's parent, a janitor…" I trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I'm a blood spatter analyst."

I took a step back and placed my bag on the ground, never breaking eye contact with him. "Oh? And what's a blood spatter analyst doing at a high school?"

"Someone was killed," he said, looking slightly amused. "Three people, actually."

"I thought you were supposed to keep things under wraps. Anyway," I looked around for any cop cars, but could find none. "where are the police?"

"Behind the school. The principal didn't want to rile the students up. But," he added, "eventually they will find out what happened. They do have windows in the classes," the man said, looking up.

What did happen?

Did she get to them already?

"Obviously," I said nodding slowly, "that's inevitable. But how do you plan on getting the bodies out without anyone noticing? At least if discretion really is a major concern."

He shrugged. Now I was the one being eyed suspiciously. "I'm not sure…garbage can? Who knows. We'll find a way."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman walking toward us, her eyes fixed intently on the man before me.

Another analyst? A detective?

"Dex! Dex!" she half-shouted, until he turned toward her. "What the fuck are you doing? We have a crime scene, you know."

"Oh, hey, Deb," he smiled breezily.

I laughed.

She stood next to him, placing her hands on her hips, and stared at me. After a moment, she averted her gaze back to the other man. "Who's this?"

He glanced at me. "A student. He's new here."

She cocked her head to the side. "Yeah? You got a name, kid?"

"Yeah. It's Cole," I said, looking straight at her, yet avoiding her eyes.

"Cole what?"

"Hyde." I said firmly.

"Cole Hyde," she said, testing my name out. "Hmm, shouldn't you be in class, or something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I should be. But I arrived here late, and it seems I will be getting to class later than I had planned."

_If I get there at all.._

"But," the man said, "the school is on lockdown, Deb. No one is allowed in except for police."

She nodded, her slips pressed into a firm line. "Shit," she muttered.

I smirked.

"Right, well…shit, I don't know what to tell you, kid."

I scratched the back of my head, and looked around. The silence disturbed me. At a murder scene, you would think it would be chaotic, no? But it is far from that, actually. If these people had not have mentioned the fact there was a murder here, I would have never known.

There weren't even news vans here. Normally, they rush to the scenes of crimes, cameras out and recording.

Why does this seem so discreet?

"What's on your mind, Cole?" the man asked.

"Nothing really, just seems a bit quiet for a murder scene, that's all," I shrugged.

"No shit it's quiet! Goddamn, had we not said anything, you'd never know what happened, huh?" The woman quickly slapped her palm over her mouth, in an attempt to reprimand herself for cursing.

I laughed a little. "Yes, that is true.."

"Hmm, well, we have to go. Sorry to cut this short, kid, but we have work to do."

The pair began to walk off, but before they had disappeared, I called out to them. "Hey, wait!"

The woman turned, and began walking back toward me. But not before assuring the analyst that he could continue on walking around the building. She walked up the steps, and stopped less than a foot away from me.

I blushed slightly at her closeness, but began to speak. "Since the school is on lockdown…and no one's allowed in except for the police I'm assuming…what am I supposed to do?"

Her mouth opened, stumped, she searched for an answer. "Huh. Well, I suppose you can't go to class, now. You'll have to wait out here."

"In front of the building?" I asked, puzzled.

She shook her head feverishly. "No, no, no. I think you'll just have to wait over by the cop cars. I'd say go home, but I'm not sure if it's totally safe. Follow me? We'll talk to LaGuerta about it."

"Okay," I said.

I picked up my bag, reluctantly swinging it over a stiff shoulder, and trudged onward behind the young detective. Everything about the way she walked gave away that her confidence is feigned. She seems timid, unsure of herself…but tries hard to appear quite the opposite.

"You can fool some, but not all," I muttered.

Her head snapped around. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah, I did actually, " I gave a half-hearted laugh. "I said 'What a first day, eh?'"

She laughed. "Welcome to Miami. I bet this isn't what you had in mind for your first day of school, huh?"

"No, not really, Ms…?" my voice trailed off in hopes she would reveal her name.

"Morgan," she said, "but you can call me Deb."

"But would you rather me call you Ms. Morgan, or Deb? I wouldn't want to come off as disrespectful."

Deb stopped in her tracks, and turned to face me, a faint smile on her lips. "You can call me Deb, Cole. No need to worry about all that 'disrespectful' bullshit."

I smiled faintly. "Okay, I was just making sure-"

"I know," she said, "it's fine, really. But can I ask you some questions?" she seemed to rush that last part out.

"Sure? I guess."

"Okay. Well, first off, how old are you?"

"I'm close to twenty," I blushed a deep red. "But I'm a senior…as if that makes anything better. God. I just moved around a lot growing up, because of it, I missed too much school. They held me back. I hate myself for that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm almost twenty years old and still in high school. I feel like an idiot." My face reddened a little.

She pouted slightly and placed her hand on my shoulder, a comforting gesture. "Don't feel like that, kid. It's not your fault. Your parents moved you around a lot, so what?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Yeah, so why did you move around a lot? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"My dad could never find work…so we moved around to where he could find a job."

"Oh, I see. So, do you have any siblings?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I have an older brother."

She nodded, "So do I. But does your's have a name? An age?"

"Ah, yes. His name is Abel. He's twenty-two years old."

"Do you two get along at all, or do you bitch at each other a lot? Damn," she said, "I'm probably asking way too many questions, huh?"

I cleared my throat. "No no, it's fine, aha. I don't mind at all. But yes, we do get along. Funny," I added, "but, I moved down here with my parents, but moved in with my brother, Abel."

"Oh, really? What does he do for work?"

I smiled brightly. "He's a tattoo artist."

"No shit!" she said excitedly, but covered her mouth once again, after recognizing she had cursed. "Jeez, I'm sorry about that, ha-ha. Cursing doesn't bother you, does it?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No, it doesn't. I don't like cursing all that much, but I have a very foul mouth."

"You and me both," she laughed.

We finally reached the back of the building. Before us, at least ten cop cars sat parked on the grass. Cops walked around shouting orders, and in the midst of all the chaos stood three calm figures assessing the situation. One of them I recognized to be them man I had spoke to before.

Deb poked my arm. "See that guy over there? That's my brother, Dexter." she pointed toward the analyst. He must've seen her pointing, for he smiled and waved in our direction. She pulled me along with her toward her brother.

Once we reached the trio, a Hispanic, heavy set woman of about forty years of age glanced from me to Deb. "Uh, Debra, who is this?"

"Cole Hyde. He was in front of the building before, trying to get in. He's a new student, and is unaware of what is going on."

She turned to me. "Is this true, Mr. Hyde?"

"Yes, ma'am. I just registered here, today was supposed to be my first day. I suppose it's kind of shot now, hmm?"

She smiled slightly. "It is, and I'm sorry for that. But the school has been placed on lockdown. No one is permitted to enter or exit the building, aside from police of course."

Before I could respond, I heard shouting, and turned around. Four paramedics accompanied by officers carried a body bag out on a stretcher. I squinted, in an attempt to see the face of the victim.

I leaned forward slightly and saw the blood soaked bag resting on the white sheets of the gurney. I squinted, unable to tell if the bag contained a body or not.

My face paled, and I felt as if I were about to vomit. "No, no, no, not this soon! Oh, fuck." I whispered.

_Alexi, what did you do?_


	5. Laying Low

Chapter five

"Might be one of us." He leaned toward me, his eyes narrowing. "It better not have been you, though. Otherwise you'd have severely screwed us all."

I shook my head feverishly. "It wasn't. I'm smarter than that. I take great pride in completing my tasks with nothing less than perfection. I wouldn't have finished it so quickly… I wanted her to trust me first. I wanted to get onto her good side, become a friend of some sort, before I made my move."

"I see… Well, I suppose we'll just have to wait to find out what exactly is going on, hmm? We're just about as blind as these other fools," he pointed his thumb backward at the cluster of students.

They had no idea what was going on.

Unaware and uninvolved…

Oh, if only I could be one of them right now.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair. "We might as well sit back there with the others. They're starting to notice that we haven't moved yet."

I looked up and saw a few students staring at Nikolai and I. "You're right. We should go over by them. Besides, whoever killed them may still be inside of the building…"

He nodded. We both rose from our seats and joined the others in the back of the room. The group fixed their eyes on us, staring intently, curiosity and disdain in their eyes.

"Mr. Ashby!" a harsh whisper came from behind us. Nikolai turned around and searched for the student that called him.

"Yes?" he whispered back.

"Why were you two still sitting there? How come you guys didn't sit back here with the rest of us?"

"Alexi has never participated in a lockdown before, she was a little nervous," he half-smiled. "I just needed to explain to her everything would be alright. That's all."

The student snorted. "Well, she didn't look nervous at all, to me."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I don't like to show that I'm scared. It makes me feel vulnerable." I stated, shrugging.

"It's not like you feel anything anyway, Alexi," Nikolai mumbled.

"You're right about that. I have about as much emotion in me as a corpse." I smiled.

Nikolai laughed loudly, causing students to look at him. "Sorry," he said, still laughing, "I just found something funny."

"What inappropriate timing," I muttered.

"Ow!," I shouted, after being elbowed in the ribs by Mr. Ashby. I shot him a dirty look, to which he smiled at.

We must have been sitting in the corner of the room for more than two ours, before the principal went on the intercom system, and addressed us all.

"Students and staff," he said sullenly, "I would like to thank all of you for your cooperation in this matter. Because of what has happened, I have decided to send all of you home early today. You will be escorted to your buses by police officers. School will be cancelled until further notice. Again, thank you."

I looked over at Nikolai, puzzled. "They're shutting the school down, now?"

He nodded. "Apparently so. I guess they have deemed it to be too dangerous for anyone to be here. I don't blame them."

"Hmm, well, we'll figure this all out eventually. Until then, I suppose I'll just have to lay low…unless of course I'm given another job?"

Before answering, Nikolai and I stood up with the rest of the students, and watched them wander around, waiting for the principal to announce that we could leave.

He turned toward me. "No more jobs for now, until this is all settled. Before we find out who did this, nothing else is being done. It is best for us all to sit back for now. Let the police handle this."

I shook my head, agreeing with him. "Okay, I understand."

I jumped slightly, at the sudden vibration coming from my pocket. I laughed, "Out of all the things I've done, I've never been scared once. But I receive a text, and it scares the living hell out of me."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and slid the screen up, and read the message:

**From: Cole**

**12:45 p.m. 9/13/10**

_What in fucking hell is going on here? I'm standing outside of the school with three detectives and a blood spatter analyst, they just pulled a fucking body out the back of the school! You were supposed to wait, dammit!_

I looked up and Nikolai. "So, Cole thinks I did this, too."

"Tell him you didn't," he said calmly.

"Of course I'm going to, I just hate that you-and now Cole-think I did this. I hope you both know I'm better than that, I wait a while to make my move."

"I know you wouldn't do it right away, but it was your kill, you know? Raises some suspicion that you moved quickly."

"Hmm, I guess. Let me answer him back."


	6. Bless You All

Chapter Six: Bless You All

I looked up and Nikolai. "So, Cole thinks I did this, too."

"Tell him you didn't," he said calmly.

"Of course I'm going to, I just hate that you-and now Cole-think I did this. I hope you both know I'm better than that, I wait a while to make my move."

"I know you wouldn't do it right away, but it was your kill, you know? Raises some suspicion that you moved quickly."

"Hmm, I guess. Let me answer him back."

I sat there, clutching my phone, waiting for a response. So far, nothing. I looked up to see Nikolai staring at me.

"Nothing yet," I sighed.

He pressed his lips into a firm line, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He's stressed, and so am I. The lack of a response from Cole is slowly driving me insane, I need him to answer.

I flipped the screen on my phone, and scrolled through my contacts 'til I found his name.

Abel.

_'Your brother isn't answering me, do you have any idea of what's going on here? You're the one that dropped him off here, after all. Respond back, it's important.'_

"Nikolai," I called.

He turned, "Hmm?"

"I…text Abel. You think he would know what's going on?" my eyes widened a little.

"He might, him and Cole are very close. I'm sure he knows, but I don't think he _fully _knows the situation."

"Was he not aware of why I came here?"

"No, I don't believe so. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it seems a bit odd that he would be left out in the dark. You're one of the Elders, you tell me-aren't all of us supposed to be informed when One is in the area? This way no one takes the kill?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, nodding, "Yes, you are all supposed to be informed when one of the brothers are in the area, as a precautionary method I suppose."

My eyes narrowed, "So…why is Abel being kept in the dark?"

"No, no, " Nikolai said, shaking his head, "he isn't being kept out in the dark. We just haven't been able to get in contact with the boy. Only Cole knows about his whereabouts…and he's not saying anything."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure, Alexi," he said, shrugging. "We can continue to try and reach him, but I don't know if it will do any good. He will make an appearance when he chooses to. You know him."

"Yeah…yeah, I do. I guess he'll show up eventually. I could use his help, maybe he could aid me in finding out who did this," I yawned, stretching my tensed muscles.

The crackling of the loudspeaker made me jump again, which is highly unusual. Nothing fazes me. I must really be on edge this time, huh? I sat up, hands folded in my lap, alert. I tuned out of the quiet chatter of the surrounding students and awaited the announcement, hopefully, it was our time to leave.

"Students and faculty," the wary-sounding principal said, " as I have said, I appreciate your cooperation in this matter. I am very proud of all of you. Shortly, you will be evacuated from the building, with police escorts by your side. Due to the…severity, if you will, of this event…we have deemed it far too dangerous for you all to continue to come to school at this time…."

The voices of my fellow classmates grew louder, their curiosity, fear, increasing.

"…so you will be on vacation for approximately two weeks. When you return, we will have an assembly in our auditorium regarding this tragic event, and you will all be informed as to what has occurred." he drew in a deep breath, his anxiety more apparent now, his fear growing with each word he spoke. "Please, I beg of you, stay off of the streets and in your homes, and try your best to be safe. I wish all of you well, and hope to see all of your faces again upon your return. Bless you all, children, bless you all…."

"Hey! Mr. Ashby!," a male student called, being unnecessarily loud, "What the hell is going on? Why'd Mr. Fournier sounds so scared when he was talking?"

"Adam, I really cannot tell you. I'm just as lost as you are," he frowned, lying to his pupil.

I leaned forward, taking a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "You know, they're going to find out soon."

He kept his eyes on the rest of the class, observing them all, watching over them. Always the protector. "Yes, I know they will. And I absolutely hate lying to them, I wish I could tell them what happened…but as a teacher, I cannot reveal anything until I have been told to…and as one of us…I cannot speak of anything. When the time comes, all I can say is that they died, someone broke in and murdered our secretaries and our," he chuckled, " guidance counselor. It's all so troublesome. At least when we have these mongrels to deal with.

"But even so. This was your kill. And someone took it from you, and murdered two others afterwards. How did this all happen?" he asked, his eyes widening. For once, he truly looked bothered by something. Despite the circumstances, it was nice to see him display some emotion.

I nodded, "I don't understand this at all. Surely they could have been spotted before this happened…I mean, there are security guards roaming the building, cameras all over, no? So how did whoever killed them go unnoticed…it seems nearly impossible…too much light, no privacy…" I lowered my voice even more now, "And I don't even think I could get away with that."

"You don't think so? You've gotten away with a lot, too, you know," he smirked slightly.

"No, I don't think so. I may have gotten away with a lot in my time, but this is far too risky. Whoever did this is a goddamn ghost."

The class room door opened abruptly, and we all turned, fearful of who was standing at the door.

"Oops, I guess I forgot to lock the door."

I stared at the man holding the door open; he was middle aged, heavy set and Hispanic. Facial hair in the form of a goatee covered his tired face. A police officer stepped out from behind him, his hand placed on his holstered weapon, readying himself for a possible attack, that hopefully would never happen. The cop stared at me, a look of menace on his pale, freckled face.

The Hispanic man stepped forward, clearing his throat. His eyes wandered around, surveying the room. The man's wandering eyes settled on me just as the officer's had, and he looked at me for a moment, almost suspiciously. I began to think he was here specifically for me, but cleared the thought from my head as he began speaking.

"Hello, students. I'm Detective Batista and I am here to escort you all to your assigned buses. I and Officer Parker here will make sure it is a safe walk for all of you. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this today," he added apologetically. "Now, come with us."


	7. Odd One

Chapter Seven

Angel turned toward the woman standing between him and Debra's brother, "Should we tell him?"

She held her breath for a moment, hesitating before nodding and beginning to speak. "We probably shouldn't be telling you this, but, you're bound to find out anyway…damn media," she scoffed. "But someone, somehow, bypassed all security in your school. And they murdered a guidance counselor and two secretaries."

My jaw dropped, and I stared at her wide eyed for a moment, feigning shock. "But…how could something like this happen? So early in the morning, too, you'd think they'd get caught, but…"

She nodded, frowning, "I know. It's a hard thing to accept that such a horrible thing could happen to such good people."

I frowned, "I know…"

_'Hah, good people my ass.' _I thought, trying not to smirk.

"Detective Batista!" a voice called. I turned to see an officer making his way towards us, his face grim.

"What is it, Parker?" Angel said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The principal delivered his speech to the students, he's releasing them all now." his voice sounded strained, he seemed out of breath…like he was running from something. Or better yet, scared of something. I wonder what that could be…

The officer's voice brought my musings to an end. "And who are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you, who are-"

"This is Cole Hyde, he's a student here. He arrived late, after the building had already been put on lockdown," Angel said, interrupting the cop. "Nothing to worry about, now what's the deal with the principal?"

The cop nodded. "Like I said, he delivered his speech to the students, told them to be safe and stay off the streets. He's keeping them out of school for two weeks…"

I groaned at that, earning a glance from Deb.

"…and now he's having them all evacuated and brought to their buses."

LaGuerta chimed in. "Angel, go with officer Parker and bring the students down to their buses. We'll stay out here and keep everything calm, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he said. "Officer, which floor are you covering?"

"The third floor, rooms 305-310."

"Is that all the rooms that are on that floor?" Batista asked curiously.

"On that floor, yes. The school is very large as you can see, and the rooms are spread out along the long corridors. Kind of odd there are only five classes up there, but there's enough room for the rest on the first and second floors."

Batista nodded. "Well, let's go, then."

The two took off in the direction of what seems to be the service entrance in the back off the school. They walked quickly, trying to reach their destination as fast as possible.

The officer's knowledge of the layout of the school intrigued me. The officer could have picked up on this from walking around the school and seeing what rooms he would be escorting. Still, though, it makes me wonder if he could have been the one to kill the secretaries, and Alexi's target.

Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions.

For now, I'll just have to wait until I get a chance to speak to Alexi in person.

I stood there, ignoring the others chatter, and retreated into my mind. The safest place.

Ms. Cameron was supposed to be Alexi's kill, and the day she starts here, she dies. I know Alexi usually takes here time, likes to wait a while before moving, but it put me on edge. Would she move this quickly? No, no she wouldn't. She isn't like that.

But what if someone else is involved?

Always a possibility. Though, it is one that I desperately hope isn't in this case. We can't afford to have someone else, someone outside the brotherhood, involved. One little mistake…

…could ruin us all….

"Cole?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

Deb chuckled. "You okay, kid? You seem kinda out of it."

I inhaled deeply, "Yeah, I'm alright. Just…didn't expect this to happen on my first day, you know? It's a bit of a shock."

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I understand that. But you should be alright, don't worry. But look at it this way, you get two weeks off from school," she smiled sheepishly.

_Hmm, her smile is quite cute actually_, I thought. "Yeah, that's true. Another two weeks to relax," I laughed.

Why did I think that? I can't possibly be attracted-

"And relaxation is always good," she winked. "But, unfortunately for me, I don't get enough of it. Too goddamn stressed."

"Ah, I know how that goes, trust me," I said, sympathetically.

"Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it? But," she said, "do you have anyone to pick you up?"

"I drove here actually, I can get home on my own."

"Oh, alright. Do you mind if I follow you? I don't want to sound like a creep, but with you being on the premises and all…whoever did this could have seen you. I just wanna make sure you get home safely." Deb averted her gaze, suddenly seeming shy.

"Sure, sure. It's cool with me," I smiled.

She returned the smile and said "Alright, when do you want to leave? Because they're already getting the kids on their buses." she nodded toward something behind me, and I turned, seeing the row of yellow school buses, confused and scared adolescents boarding them.

How did I not hear all of them?

"Uh…I guess we could leave now if you want, that is if you don't have anything left to do."

"Just let me tell LaGuerta and my brother that we're leaving, then we'll head off. Just give me a minute, Cole."

I watched her walk off, her strides quick and purposeful now. From the way she was walking she seemed almost excited. About what, I'm not sure. She spoke to LaGuerta, each of them glancing over in my direction every now and then. I tried not to make it obvious I was watching. I stared at my feet and waited for her to return.

"Well," she called out while walking toward me, "we can go now. Where'd you park?"

I pointed behind me. "Right over there in the student lot. You want me to meet you somewhere?"

"At the entrance?"

"Sure, I'll see you in a minute then."

I crossed the courtyard behind the school leading to the student parking lot, ignoring everyone around me. I could feel their gazes burning into the back of my head, all of them wondering who the new person was. I reached my car and unlocked the door. For a moment I hesitated opening it, I stood there, motionless, taking deep breaths. The stress of the situation is building up, and if I don't find out just what is going on, my head might explode.

I opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat, and turned the car on. I lowered the radio for the first time in my life, not once has the sound been below…deafening. Normally I would keep the sound up, but right now all I want is silence. Time to think. I pulled out my phone and checked for any new messages.

I had one from Alexi, her trying to tell me that she has nothing to do with the early kill. She's probably as stressed as I am. I'd better respond to her.

_'Lexi, I'm on my way home. I have a detective escorting me to the house, and I'm not sure if she's going to leave right after or not. Please, if you can, walk to my place after you get home. We need to talk.'_

I sent the message. Hopefully, she would get it.

I pulled into the driveway of my house, Deb pulling into the spot next to mine, simultaneously shutting the engines off. I grabbed my phone from the cup holder, not bothering to check if Alexi had responded, and exited the car. Deb was already waiting on the porch, anxiously. She smiled at me as I trudged up the walk way.

"No need to seem so miserable," she laughed.

I snorted. "Sorry, it's just been a hectic first day. I don't do well with stress, I try to avoid it as much as possible," I walked past her, the scent of her perfume enveloping me. It was overwhelming. I paused for a moment, breathing it in.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm cool. Just getting my keys," I shoved my hand into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a single key. I placed the key into the lock and opened the door, having to push it a little. "The door sticks for some reason, it can be really annoying," I added.

"The door to my place does it, too. It can be a bitch when you're bringing groceries in."

_Or bodies, _I thought.

"Oh, I know. I can't tell you how many times I've dropped shit trying to get this door open," I laughed.

"So," I added, stepping out of the way to allow her to walk through the door, "this is my place. Do you want anything? A water?"

"Uh, no, it's okay," she said.

"You sure?" I tried not to be too pushy.

"Yes, I'm sure. This is a nice place you got, by the way." she said, looking around, offering her approval.

I looked around. The house was empty. Or at least seemed it. A long, leather couch lined the back wall of the living room, the black a stark contrast from the pale, almost blue, gray of the walls. A black rug took up a spot in the center of the room, a small coffee table placed above it. The only thing on the table were a pair of keys and a half-melted candle. A few black and white pictures were placed in random spots on the walls, none of them of family. We have no family.

"Well, you're welcome to look around if you like, just don't go snooping around in the basement, it's where we hide the bodies." I winked at her and laughed.

She laughed as well. "Oh? Bodies, huh? I might just have to cuff you then."

"Ooh," I said, biting my lower lip, "kinky."

We both laughed. I led her into the kitchen, "Come on, I'm gonna get something to drink. At least grab a water, it's hot as hell out there. And you must be sweating like a motherfucker in those dress pants."

"Yeah, it's hot as shit out there. I wish I could get away with wearing shorts to work."

"I'm guessing it's against a dress code of some sort?" I looked at her while I opened the refrigerator door.

"Yes," she frowned, "it is."

I handed her the water and she nodded, thanking me. She quickly twisted the cap off and began to guzzle the water down.

"Hey, pace yourself. You drink that water fast and you'll make yourself puke," I chuckled slightly.

She swallowed the water, wiping what had spilled onto her chin off with the back of her hand. Deb's face reddened slightly. "Sorry, just really thirsty. And hot."

"I figured, aha. Want me to turn the air on? I don't want you having a heat stroke on me."

She shrugged, smiled a little. "If you want to, it's your place."

"So yes?"

"Yes, please, I'm fucking dying here," she said, exaggerating.

I laughed at her dramatics. "Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

I walked to the opposite side of the kitchen and down the hall. I passed the computer room and the guest bathroom. And the end of the hall, were the controls for the central air. I turned the system on and waited for it to kick in. I heard the hissing sound coming from the vents, and soon felt the cool air rushing out. I walked back to the kitchen to meet Deb.

"You should feel better in a minute, the air just turned-"

She jumped at my voice and turned around, quickly trying to chew whatever was left in her mouth. A package of cookies lay on the counter behind her, a few of them missing. I looked back at her face; she seemed scared, or embarrassed to say the least. Her eyes widened and her face paled.

"What's a matter? You look like you've seen a ghost," I said, trying to stifle my laughter. I succeeded somehow.

"I'm sorry," she said, her mouth full, still trying to choke down the cookies. "I didn't mean to dig into your food, it's just that I haven't eaten since-"

"Hey, it's okay. It's just cookies. Hell, you could've cooked something if you wanted. No reason to apologize," I smiled, trying to make her feel at ease. She relaxed a bit. I couldn't help but notice crumbs at the corner of her mouth. I walked over and wiped them off, still smiling at her. "You can take them with you when you leave if you like."

"No, it's okay." she shook her head.

"Ah, Deb, just take them, they're only cookies, Hun."

_Hun? Where the hell did that come from?_

She seemed as puzzled as I am. " 'Hun' ?"

"Sorry. I can be a little too endearing sometimes," I shrugged.

"It's okay," she said slowly, quietly, "I kinda liked it…"

"But I should be going. LaGuerta's going to bust my ass if I'm not back soon, she's probably wondering where I am."

"Oh," I said, surprisingly disappointed. "You don't have to go, you've only been here a few minutes."

"I know," she said, "but I have to get back to the scene. Why, are you gonna miss me?" she teased.

"Yes," I laughed.

"Well, maybe we'll meet again soon. Sound alright?" Deb smiled, her face lighting up at her suggestion of meeting a second time.

"Yeah, sure," I said, returning the smile.

"Alright then, I should be going. Bye Cole," she said walking toward the front door.

"See ya," I called.

She stopped for a second, pausing before leaving the house. She grabbed the door knob, then let it go. I watched her stand there, hesitating.

"Something wrong, Deb?"

She turned, walking toward me quickly. "Yeah, something is wrong."

I looked at her, confused, somewhat worried. "What-"

She grabbed my face. "This." she craned her neck up and kissed me, then pulled away. She looked at me for a moment before turning once again, and making her way toward the front door.

"You're an odd one, Deb," I said, shocked by her actions.

She turned toward me, smiling, flashing perfect white teeth. "You know it. See you around, kid."

She left.

_What the hell just happened?_


	8. That Stutter

Chapter Ten

The class room door opened abruptly, and we all turned, fearful of who was standing at the door.

I stared at the man holding the door open; he was middle aged, heavy set and Hispanic. Facial hair in the form of a goatee covered his tired face. A police officer stepped out from behind him, his hand placed on his holstered weapon, readying himself for a possible attack, hopefully that would never happen.

The Hispanic man stepped forward, clearing his throat. His eyes wandered around, surveying the room. The man's wandering eyes settled on me, and he looked at me for a moment, almost suspiciously. I began to think he was here specifically for me, but cleared the thought from my head as he began speaking.

"Hello, students. I'm Detective Batista and I am here to escort you all to your assigned buses. I and Officer Parker here will make sure it is a safe walk for all of you. I'm sorry you had to go through all of this today," he added apologetically. "Now, come with us."

The rest of the class stood up quickly, rushing to the door. They were all anxious to get out of the building. The news of their vacation was more interesting to them now, than the tragedy that had just occurred. It seems they had all but forgotten something had happened.

I tentatively stood up, waiting for Nikolai to stand next to me before I joined the rest of the class in leaving the room. He walked with me, staying close by my side. His arm brushed against mine as we walked down the hall, the students from the other classrooms crowded around us. We fell behind, walking slower than the others, observing the group. I turned my head slightly and saw the cop and Detective Batista watching us carefully. Much to my dismay, he sped up, and walked along beside us.

"How come you two decided to slow up? The others are already walking down the stairwell," he said, an accusatory tone to his voice.

"My student here has anxiety problems. The _tragic event_ that occurred is making her scared, on top of that, she hates crowds. Claustrophobic," Nikolai said, glancing over at the detective. "I'd have her rush, but I don't think we could afford her breaking down in the hallway, we need everyone out. I'll hurry her along, but we'll keep at a pace that's okay for her. I'll see to it that she makes it out in time."

I widened my eyes, and forced myself to stammer, "I…I'm s-sorry, detective, I d-don't want to slow you up. I just…" I drew in a deep breath. "…hate being around so many people. It m-makes me panic," I frowned, earning a sympathetic look from the man.

Batista placed his hand on my shoulder, and offered a warm smile. "It's okay, I understand. We had a kid out back before who was just as nervous as you. He started here today, but by the time he got here, you guys were already on lock down. He seemed pretty freaked out."

My head snapped around, and I looked up at Nikolai nervously. Was it Cole the detective is talking about? Or…Abel?

"Who was it? Maybe it was one of my new students, we had one missing today," he said, slightly concerned.

The detective scratched his chin. "I think I remember him saying his name was Cole, I never really talked to him much, though. One of our detectives seemed to be preoccupied with him, trying to keep him calm. The poor kid seemed like a time bomb," he laughed, "I'm guessing he doesn't do well with stress."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds like the kid doesn't h-handle it well, neither do I," I said, not forgetting to stutter.

"I can tell, kid. What's your name?" he asked.

"Alexi…Segur," I answered.

"Nice name."

"Thank you. Would it be improper of me to ask your full name?" I asked the detective, curious as to what his full name is.

"Angel Batista," he said, seeming somewhat proud.

"Nice name," I said, repeating his words.

"Thank you. Now, most of the classes are ahead of us, would it be alright if we hurried? We don't want you to be late to your bus."

"I actually don't have a bus, I walked here, so I guess I could just walk back home by my-"

"No, I'll be driving you home, Alexi." Nikolai interrupted.

The detective looked at him quizzically.

"I'm a friend of the family. I've known her mother since we were in high school."

"Oh, alright. Well, let's get downstairs and outside with the rest of them."

Batista left Nikolai and I in the courtyard, trusting us to get home safely. He walked off with Officer Parker, herding the large cluster of students toward their buses.

I turned to Nikolai. "Finally, out of the watchful eyes of Detective Batista."

He stretched his arms, leaning back to crack his spine. "Yes, I know. Good job on that stutter, by the way," he joked.

"Thanks, Nikolai. Now get me home," I said, completely drained.

"Alright, let's go."


	9. The Ghost

Chapter Eleven: The Ghost

Batista left Nikolai and I in the courtyard, trusting us to get home safely. He walked off with Officer Parker, herding the large cluster of students toward their buses.

I turned to Nikolai. "Finally, out of the watchful eyes of Detective Batista."

He stretched his arms, leaning back to crack his spine. "Yes, I know. Good job on that stutter, by the way," he joked.

"Thanks, Nikolai. Now get me home," I said, completely drained.

"Alright, let's go."

"Follow me," Nikolai said, leading me in the direction of the faculty parking lot. The area was empty, with the exception of a few cars. Most of the teachers I assume, take the bus to work.

He walked briskly to the back corner of the parking lot, trying to get to his car as quickly as possible. I picked up my pace and caught up with him.

"And what're you running from?" I asked, wondering why he was rushing to his car.

"I'm not running from anything," he said, still rushing to the car. "I just want to get home and figure out just what the fuck is going on."

"Yeah, alright. Let's hurry up then."

Nikolai unlocked the car and motioned for me to get in. "Seatbelt?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Don't bother. We'll be home within a few minutes."

Nikolai started the car and pulled out his parking spot, not bothering to check the mirrors. I suppose hitting someone isn't one of his biggest worries. He began to drive toward the exit, and stopped when a police officer walked in front of us. It was Officer Parker. He crossed a group of students and allowed us to pass, not before glaring at both Nikolai and I.

"Someone doesn't seem to like us," he said, laughing half-heartedly.

"Not many do."

And with that, we took off down the main road, our destination unclear, at least at this moment.

We'll figure out where we're going soon enough.

"You haven't heard from Nikki, have you?" I asked, struggling to pull my phone out of my pocket.

He glanced over at me. "No, I haven't. but you seem to be having a bit of trouble there."

"Nope, not at all," I said, ripping my hand out of my pocket, my phone clenched tightly in my hand. "But alright. What do you think she'll do when she hears this?"

"I can't say. She'll probably keep you down here even longer, in order to eliminate this…ghost, as you called them. But, that shouldn't bee too much of a problem. A little investigating should help you find out who it is…but, I'd lay low for a while."

"Yeah, it's probably the best thing to do…" my voice trailed off.

Nikki Volkov…is the woman who assigns tasks to members of the brotherhood. She is also my guardian. Very little is known about her, let alone her past. Nikki isn't even sure about what happened to her as a child. We assume she was orphaned, because of the lack of knowledge about her parents. She is very reclusive, often locking herself away for months at a time, only appearing to assign a kill. Lately, though, with our move…she has been showing her face more often, which is unlike her, yet is pleasant…and equally unsettling.

The last time she appeared…

My phone vibrated and I quickly flipped the screen and checked to see who had messaged me. Cole.

'_**Lexi, I'm on my way home. I have a detective escorting me to the house, and I'm not sure if she's going to leave right after or not. Please, if you can, walk to my place after you get home. We need to talk.' **_

I stared blankly at the screen for a moment before responding to his text. Why was there a detective at his house?

"Hey, Nikolai?"

"Hmm?"

"Drive to Cole's. He said he needs to talk to me…and that he was 'escorted' home by a detective. I didn't even know he was at the school. Did you see him?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. He was supposed to arrive to class around the same time as you. We had asked him to come in late."

"We? And how come?" I asked, puzzled.

"Nikki and I. And we asked him to come in late so that he could wait for Abel to return. And, now, we don't know if he came home. But I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

We pulled into the driveway of Cole's house. Before I could open the door, he appeared on the front steps.

I exited the car, shutting the door behind me. Nikolai followed. "So, what'd you wanna talk to me about?"

"I wanna know how your kill wound up dead this early. Weren't you supposed to wait?" he asked, seeming frustrated.

"Yes, I was supposed to wait. And I would have waited, had she not died while I was in class."

"Did you have anything to do with this?" Cole said, stepping forward.

"No I didn't. I would have waited to off-"

Nikolai interrupted. "Considering a detective just left your house, would you like to go inside? After all, we are talking about a hit."

Cole nodded. "You're right, come inside."

We followed him up the steps and into the house, cool air rushing out toward us. I stepped into the living room and walked over to the couch lining the back wall. I took a seat.

"Now like I was saying; I would have waited to kill this woman, but after I had left her office with my schedule, not ten minutes later the principal got on the intercom and put us all on lockdown. Nikolai had checked his email, an alert was sent, telling the staff what had happened, that's how I'm assuming you know, right? Okay. So then he had pulled me aside and told me Cameron was killed, along with two others. Secretaries.

"This I could not have pulled off. Security was in and out of the office, not to mention there were cameras everywhere and the room was well lit. No way in hell would I have gotten away with this. It would have been far too risky. But," I added, "the thing that bothered me the most while I was with her, was that she seemed absolutely terrified. Paranoid even. She couldn't have known she was getting killed. Then again, after all the murders she committed, she'd be scared of getting caught, I suppose. But to be _that_ scared…it bothers me. It's like she knows."

"I don't think she could know about us," Nikolai said. "It's impossible. Sure, there are myths of a group like us…but know one actually believes. The government even writes us off as a possibility, despite the massive amount of hits we've performed. You would think they'd start to speculate on the possibility of our brotherhood being real…but, I suppose their not believing is a good thing for us, hmm?"

"Yeah, it is a good thing. We're all better off not being heard of. As long as we blend in, we're fine," Cole said.

"Normal citizens by day, hit men by night," a voice said.

None of us had noticed him standing in the doorway as we carried on our conversation. He had slipped in unnoticed.

I turned to look at him. He grinned and opened his arms up for a hug. I hopped off the couch, walking toward him sluggishly. "Jeez, kid, you look dead. What happened to you?"

"Eh, my kill was taken early. Someone got to her first," I said, collapsing into Abel's arms. "Where have you been?"

"Roaming around the area, trying to get a feel for it. I have a few assignments coming up," he said, hugging me tightly.

"Ah. Well, I have two weeks off, apparently."

"Oh? Would you care to drive around with me, looking for kill spots?" Abel asked casually.

His seemingly carefree attitude provided me with a sort of…balance. I was always tense and closed off. But with him, everything felt okay. Like I could let go and joke…His presence allowed me to

think clearly. I always had him around when I planned my kills.

Although, I knew his darker side. His temper often got the better of him, causing him to get into many unneeded fights. I have also watched him kill. He liked to torture his targets first. Which, is normal, to me anyway. But what he did to them…was disturbing, and the thought of what he does…unsettles me.

"Sure, we could leave tonight, I suppose."

"Sounds good, kid. Have you eaten today?" he asked, concerned.

I have a habit of skipping meals. I'm never hungry, and the only time I do eat is when I'm starving, when I need food. "Yeah…I did eat."

He glowered at me. "Don't lie to me, 'Lex."

"I'm not lying," I said.

"Well, I'm gonna make you eat anyway. Come with me, I'm starving," he said, reaching over and grabbing my arm, pulling me into the kitchen.

"You're always hungry, you fatass," I laughed.

"Oh, fuck you," he joked.


	10. The Best Smoothie You Ever Had

**Chapter Twelve: The Best Smoothie You Ever Had**

"Sure, we could leave tonight, I suppose."

"Sounds good, kid. Have you eaten today?" he asked, concerned.

I have a habit of skipping meals. I'm never hungry, and the only time I do eat is when I'm starving, when I need food. "Yeah…I did eat."

He glowered at me. "Don't lie to me, 'Lex."

"I'm not lying," I said.

"Well, I'm gonna make you eat anyway. Come with me, I'm starving," he said, reaching over and grabbing my arm, pulling me into the kitchen.

"You're always hungry, you fatass," I laughed.

"Oh, fuck you," he joked.

Abel reached into the fridge and grabbed two cans of soda. "So, what's this about you and your kill? She was taken?"

I sighed, reluctantly having to go through all of this again. "Yes, she was. I left her office this morning and walked to Nikolai's class. About ten minutes later, the principal placed us all on lockdown. Nikolai checked the email the principal had managed to send out before speaking to us all. Told me Cameron, along with two others, were…slaughtered, basically. I wish I could have seen the body, what was done to it."

"You think you could determine who it was, by looking at it? The killing style?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. If there was no blood…it could be one of us…or someone very neat. Very efficient. But they were slaughtered, though. Like fucking lambs."

"Well, we've never been messy. There was always no blood left, not at any scene."

I started grinning. "Except at a few of your kills."

"True," he laughed.

A silence grew between us, and we sat there, avoiding each other's eyes. I watched him absent mindedly trace shapes on the table with his finger tips.

"It still scares me," I said, my voice low.

He continued drawing shapes. "Surprising, but I know.

I laughed dryly. "You sure seem like you care, huh?"

His hands stopped moving and he looked up, hesitant to meet my eyes. "I do care, it's just…I hate…scaring you. I wish I didn't."

"Look, just that one kill stuck with me. I've seen a lot, but that was just unsettling."

"I know…it probably looked like something out of a horror movie, right?" he smiled slightly.

"Yeah," I said, beginning to smile. "it did. What bothers me the most, is that it scared me. It shouldn't have. I'm about as fucked up as you are."

Abel laughed. "Maybe more. And that's amazing in itself."

"True. But…why do you do that?" I asked, becoming serious again.

He sank back into his seat, pondering the question. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried again, to speak, and succeeded. "I only…act like that…with the bad ones. The ones that really…get me. They deserve it, to be tortured twice as bad as their own victims were. You can't blame me, can you? I just get so angry thinking about what they do…it infuriates me, it really does…they're monsters. They need to be tortured," he still looked troubled.

_But, there is a fine line between just torturing them…and that. I can't even describe that, _I thought.

_About three years ago, I accompanied Abel on one of his kills. _

_Everything had worked out wonderfully…._

_The target was a middle aged man, about fifty or so years old. He had been a construction worker for most of his life. He loved working. He also loved killing. He targeted children mostly, luring them and kidnapping them. The target would lock them in his basement, starving them until they became weak. He'd break their little bones, one by one. The children were hung from the ceiling then, by meat hooks inserted in the heels of their feet. Then he bled them out, while the children were still alive…just barely. They had their throats slit, the blood collected in a large trough on the floor beneath them. The bodies were then left to decay. He would wait for them to begin decomposing before ridding himself of them._

_He was a sick man._

_To say the least, anyway._

_But, we had found him one cold winter night,…aimlessly, or so it appeared walking around town. We pulled over to the side of the rode and hailed him over._

_It was so cold that night._

_He walked over. "What seems to be the problem?"_

_Abel cleared his throat. "Ah, well, we're driving down to Charlotte, but it seems we've lost our way."_

_The man smiled. "Lost, eh?"_

"_Obviously so, sir," he said, laughing slightly._

"_Well, I suppose I could try and help you find your way back onto the highway," he replied, scratching his gut._

"_That would be wonderful." Abel unclipped his seatbelt. "I've been driving for hours. I wanna stretch my legs." he left the car, giving me a look as he did so. He seemed so angry._

"_I understand that. I hate long drives. Always a bother."_

"_Oh, yeah."_

"_Is there anything else I could help you with? And oh! I didn't notice the little one travelin' with ya. I thought you was all alone there," he said, peering into the open window. "Why, hello there, little missy. What's your name?"_

_I smiled shyly. "Alexi."_

"_Alexi, nice name. What about yours, boy?" he asked, still looking at me._

_Abel grabbed the man and turned him around. His face seemed to darken. "God."_

_He knocked the man out._

_An hour or so later, the man awoke, in his own basement, hanging in a similar fashion to that of his own victims. He began to panic, to struggle, but soon stopped due to the excruciating pain in his heels. _

"_What the fuck is going on!" he shrieked._

_Abel just stared. "Nothing. Nothing's going on."_

"_Oh? Then why the fuck am I hanging from the _fucking_ ceiling?" _

_He shrugged. "You took too long to give me directions."_

_I laughed. This made the man look at me._

"_You're in on this? You're a fucking child! Why couldn't you have stopped him, talked some sense into this psycho?" he began to cry. "Why…"_

"_I wanted to watch," I said casually. "I don't know about you, but I kinda get off on this shit."_

_Abel turned, an amused look in his eyes. "Oh? Do you now?"_

"_Don't get your hopes up, boy. Just kill him already."_

"_Yes ma'am," Abel said, walking off in the direction of the basement stairs. He paused for a moment, then turned toward the target. "Do you happen to have a blender, sir?"_

"_Why?" he half screamed._

"_Just answer."_

"_But why?" he yelled again._

"_You belligerent fool!" Abel rushed toward the man, his rage apparent. "Don't you fucking question me. Answer me, just fucking answer me." he glared at him, breathing heavily._

"_Yes, I do…" his voice trailed off._

"_Abe, I think he's gonna pass out."_

"_No, this fucker won't." he lifted the man's upper half onto a table, his feet still hanging in the air, dried blood caked on his ankles. "There." he walked off again, and went upstairs. I could hear him rummaging through the cabinets._

_The man turned toward me. "What is he going to do…?"_

_I sat back down. "God only knows."_

_He returned, barreling down the stairs, seeming delighted. He smiled brightly. "Lex, reach into that black bag and take out the masks. We'll need them."_

_I pulled them out of the black bag that lay beside me. "Here," I said, handing them over. He placed the blender on the table behind the man's head and grabbed the mask from me. He smiled before covering his mouth._

_Abel roughly pat the man on his shoulder and walked to the opposite side of the basement, where a lone, black hefty bag was placed. He dragged it back over._

_He grinned behind the mask. "Plug that in for me, please?" he asked, tossing the hefty bag onto the table. Taking a pocket knife out, he cut a hole in the bag._

_The wretched smell permeated the room. The familiar scent of rotting dead flesh, though I've been exposed to it numerous times, hit me like a freight train. I doubled over, clutching my stomach, and willed myself not to vomit. I could taste the bile rising in my throat._

"_Abel," I gagged, "what the fuck is that?"_

_He coughed, affected by the horrific stench. "One of John's friends."_

_My god…he dug up a body…._

_John coughed and sputtered, all while writhing in pain. The once fainting man, now moved around wildly, wide awake._

_Able reached over the bag and lifted the lid off of the blender. He attempted to reach into the bag, but stopped when he realized he had no gloves on. He turned to me. "Gloves?"_

_I tossed them over, not daring to walk anywhere near him. _

"_Thank you," he said._

_He pulled the gloves on and resumed digging into the garbage bag. He began ripping bits of dead flesh out of the bag and dropping them into the blender, each saturated piece making plopping sounds as it hit the bottom of the glass. The body must have been buried near water…_

_This was all nauseating. _

_Once the container was filled to capacity, Abel placed the lid on and hit the power button. The blades began to cut up the flesh, pureeing the skin, struggling to break through the tissue. I could hear the blades tearing through each piece, shredding the newly decayed flesh. The mixture took on a grayish-green tint, swirls of red appearing as well. Presumably blood. _

_He did not turn the power off until he was sure all of the rotted flesh had been liquefied. He removed the container from the stand and stood over the man's head._

_Abel grinned widely, a maniacal look in his eyes. He leaned over John. "We'll see just how much you like dead little boys, now."_

_The man shook. "What? No-"_

_He was cut off before he could finish his sentence. Abel quickly began to pour the liquefied remains of one of John's victims into his open mouth. John choked and attempted to sit up, swinging his arms erratically and now vomiting violently. _

_Abel paused and watched the man, vomiting, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to wriggle his way off of the table. He made it to the edge, before having the table kicked out from under him. John's body swung from side to side like a bloody pendulum, his head barely scraping the concrete floor, his heels being stretched. The man must've moved too much, for the hooks moved out of place and dug into the tissue inside his foot. He began to swing back and forth now, by his own doing, screaming as he did so. His movements caused the hooks to be once again knocked out of place, making them pierce a new hole in the bottoms of his already mutilated feet. He screamed once again, louder now. _

_I cringed and covered my ears._

_Abel shook his head. "Ah ah." he grabbed John by the hair, lifting his body up. "No screaming." _

_Once again, he lifted the container to the man's lips, forcing him to swallow the pureed flesh. He gagged, but Abel would not release his grip. He would not stop pouring._

_John began sobbing even more now, begging him to stop. Although, Abel would not listen. He ignored the man and continued to pour, the foul mixture dripping into the man's nose and eyes. After a minute or so, the container was empty. Abel stepped away. He watched him hang from the ceiling, vomit covering his face, coughing up the mixture of dead tissue and blood._

_Abel dropped the container onto the floor. "You okay, Lex?"_

_I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright."_

"_You sure seem it."_

"_Just a little cold is all," I lied. Truthfully, I was terrified. I had never seen this done before. And I hope to never see it again._

_Abel dragged a large bin over and placed it under the man's body. He crouched, so that he could be eye level with him. "Goodnight," he smiled, and slit his throat. _

_We packed up, not bothering to clean the place. "Go wait in the car," he said, handing me the keys._

_I took them and walked toward his car. I leaned up against it for a moment before unlocking the doors. _

_I climbed into the passenger's seat and shut the door quietly. I laid back and closed my eyes, but soon opened them when I smelled gasoline._

_He was torching the place. _

_I turned to see Abel darting toward the car, motioning for me to open the door for him. I leaned over and sung the door open, struggling slightly. My body feels weak._

_He jumped in, taking the keys from me and tossing his bags into the back seat. He started the car and looked at me. "He wasn't even dead yet."_

"Yeah, you're right. I can't blame you," I said, still thinking about that night.

"So when do you wanna leave?"


	11. Saving

**Chapter Thirteen: Saving**

"Yeah, you're right. I can't blame you," I said, still thinking about that night.

"So when do you wanna leave?"

I looked down, shrugging. "I'm not sure. Probably shouldn't leave until it gets dark, no?"

"Yeah, you're right."

Once again, it became quiet. The silence between us was almost tangible. It had come down like a wall between us, our communication coming to a halt. I never liked when we stopped talking…those awkward moments were never pleasant. We could sit for hours, avoiding each other's gaze, never speaking a single word. The only sounds coming from either of us were pained sighs. The desperation to break the silence apparent, trepidation just as obvious.

I desperately wanted to break it.

I decided to speak. "Has Nikki given you… any assignments yet?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "Only one. I've been tracking him for almost two months now. He's quite a guy," he added, chuckling.

"Oh? Can I see the file?"

"You can…I guess. But I'd have to remove some parts of the file."

"Classified?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh," I said, slightly disappointed. "Well, how bad is this one?"

Abel sat back in his chair, slouching. He scratched his chin. "Honestly, I can't say that he's bad…I don't see anything wrong with him. I kinda don't even want to kill this one off," he stared at me wide eyed for a moment before continuing. "He…has…potential, I guess."

My eyes widened. "Potential? How?"

He threw his hands up. "I'm not even sure, kid. I just don't think this one deserves to die."

"Why, what makes him so special? I thought they all deserved to die," I said flatly.

"Usually, yes. But he's…different. Maybe if I consulted Nikki, I could Save him."

Ah, Saving…

The Brotherhood has practiced the saving of poisoned souls for many years. It's a very…interesting concept to say the least.

Occasionally, when performing a hit, there are some kills that we have a level of sympathy for. In the assassin's eyes, the target's actions are just. We see them as right minded individuals, performing kills to better the world around them. They take the lives of the sinners, not the innocent. If we feel that their actions are indeed just, we will refrain from carrying out the kill. Instead, the target would be tracked, their every move monitored.

Eventually, the target would then be brought before an Elder.

The Elders are senior members of the Brotherhood, those who have been around the longest and have performed the most kills. Some act as Guides, assigning kills to certain Hit men. Their skills are of an impeccable level. Their stealth, strength and intelligence are admirable, although their abilities could also lead them to be slightly arrogant.

Thankfully, my Guides aren't affected by their position of superiority. But, most Elders for a time serve as mentors to younger brothers, training them, teaching them how to remain nearly invisible to those around us, also making them aware of the rules to abide by…our code, if you will.

Aside from the training and guiding of the Brothers, the Elders are also responsible for deciding which souls are to be saved, and those that must be terminated.

Once brought before the Elder, the actions of that specific target are brought into question. The details of each of their kills are read in detail. They would then be questioned on their motives. If their reasoning was the same as that of the Brotherhood, and the Elder believes their killings are performed with…_good_ intentions, they would be saved.

The killer would then be taken in and trained by the Brothers. They would be placed with a certain Guide, or with the assassin that had chosen them to be saved. Their every move would be watched critically, to make sure no word of the Brotherhood would get out. In time, they could be trusted, and allowed to work on their own.

And if their actions weren't merited….they would be killed.

"What makes you think Nikki would take him in?" I asked curiously.

Abel shook his head. "There's just something about him. I feel he would make an excellent member."

"You're not telling me much," I said, my eyes narrowing. "Do you not trust me or something?"

"I do trust you. It's just that I can't reveal too much about this kill."

"I understand. But, if it's not too much, can I ask how you found him?"

"Well, he wasn't assigned."

I leaned forward, placing my arms on the table. "Oh?"

"I met him myself. I was getting coffee one morning before picking up groceries, I bumped into him when he turned. Neither of us were paying attention. He seemed distracted. He apologized, and stood off to the side, allowing me to place my order. After I had finished, I walked over and started talking to him. While I was…he just seemed so detached. Dead almost. Something was up with him…probably a sociopath. But, after he left, I decided to follow him. Found his apartment, copied the address. Followed him to work, too."

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"Anyway, while he was at work, I drove back to his apartment. Broke into it. I searched through everything, and found his tools. Judging from his apartment and the equipment he uses, he seems to be very efficient. Very neat. Organized-"

"Okay, I get the point," I interrupted.

"Just trying to make it clear," he laughed. "I left then, though, and waited outside the complex. He arrived how a few hours later, around seven I think. He went in, changed, and then left again. Followed him from there. He drove around for a while, like he was following someone…looking for something. He stopped by the shipyards, got out. I parked a few yards away, and got out, too. I followed him until he reached an abandoned warehouse near the docks. He was in there for an hour or so, I didn't bother trying to go in. Too risky.

"I walked back to my car, sat there 'til he came back. By the time he got back to his truck, it was close to nine, already dark out. He drove off again, this time wound up picking someone up. Had them unconscious, tossed the body into the trunk. I kinda knew what he was up to. Must be killing, right? Yeah. So, I drove back to his place and checked his mail. I found his name. next day, I reported him to Nikki. I've been tracking him for almost two months now. And the more I look into him, the more I start to…like, even admire, this guy."

"Hmm. Have you talked to him at all since then?"

"No, I haven't. As much as I want to, I'm keeping my distance. If I have to kill him, I don't want to get close."

"I see. Getting close would be a bad thing. Where does he work?"

"At his job," he stated.

"Well, no fucking shit, dumbass," I laughed.

Abel smiled, laughing slightly. "Can't tell you, Lex."

"I know," I frowned, a sulky tone to my voice.

"You'll see who it is eventually," he said, still laughing.

"That's just the problem. I don't want to wait, "I said. "Especially if you're considering Saving this one."

"I know, I'm sorry, Lex. He should be making his rounds again soon enough. When he does, I'll bring you a long."

"Just like old times…" I mumbled. "I'm getting pretty tired, actually. Today completely wore me out for some reason. You think I can knock out for a little while?"

"Sure. You still want to go out later?"

"It'd be nice to know the area. So yeah, I'm going."

"Alright," he said, stretching. "Bed now?"

"Oh, fuck yes," I said, somewhat excited.

We both stood up, staring at each other. Our eye contact was broken when I began to glance around. I looked at him again, questioningly.

"The bedrooms are down that hall," Abel said, seeming to read my mind. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the hall. "Mine's the last room on the right, come on."

I walked behind him, each step becoming more difficult. My body feels completely drained. He seemed to sense this, and grabbed my arm, pulling me down the hall, keeping me close to him. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah…just…really, really tired."

"Well come on, now, go lay down." He opened his bedroom door and stepped aside, allowing me to walk in. I spotted the bed in the corner of his dark, empty bedroom, and walked toward it. I collapsed face first into the mattress and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep.

I heard him walk over, chuckling softly to himself. "Goodnight, kid," he said, pulling a sheet over my tired body.


	12. The File

Chapter 14: The File

"Goodnight, kid," I whispered, pulling a sheet over her now sleeping body.

I stepped back. I can feel my face changing, contorting as I watched her sleep. Any trace of happiness I had in me, dissipated. The darkness in me took over, the familiar anxiety washing over me once more. I crept backward into the darkest corner of my poorly lit bedroom, and pressed my back up against the wall. The coldness of the wall calmed me for a moment, but that was ripped away from me in an instant. The calm only lasted for a mere second.

I gazed at her sleeping figure restlessly. I moved my head back against the wall, breathing deeply, trying to center myself.

Just breathe….

I kept telling myself that. Over and over. But each breathe became more labored, harder to take. I looked around the dark room, the walls seeming to close in on me. Sharp pains coursed through my body, my internal temperature rising. I collapsed to the floor, holding the sides of my head. I began dry heaving. Bile rose, the acidic taste poisoning my mouth.

I laid down on my side, holding my body tightly, waiting for this wretched feeling to pass. I closed my eyes, in hopes that I could possibly fall to sleep. It was all in vain. No sleep came, only a momentary alleviation of pain. I took the opportunity to get up. Stumbling slightly, I darted for the door and left the room, shutting it behind me as I left.

"Nikolai," I choked, "we need to talk."

I turned the corner into the kitchen, Nikolai already seated at the kitchen table. "What's the matter?" he asked calmly. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head feverishly. "Mhm."

He motioned for me to take a seat. Reluctantly I moved, sitting across from him. He spoke. "Well, what's wrong then?"

My mouth feels incredibly dry, though I tried to speak. "It's…been months," my voice was a nearly inaudible whisper.

"Exactly how long?"

"Almost ten months."

He drew in a deep breath. "I see. What have you been doing to contain yourself?"

I did not answer, only averted my eyes.

"Abel," he warned.

I sighed. "Animals…hunting, I guess."

"Hunting?"

I hesitated. "If you wanna call it that…"

"Well, that is what you called it. So you tell me what it was."

"I trapped them."

"And?" He asked, his voice flat.

"Killed them, obviously."

"Did you use any weapons on them?"

"Like?"

"Guns, arrows, blades…" he trailed off.

"Nothing except my bare hands…unless you count the scalpels. And the sedatives."

"What sedative?" he asked, curiously.

"Mostly small animals, so Telazol. And Ketamine."

He nodded. "So, upon dissection were they conscious?"

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. "They were conscious…I…needed to hear it…" I said, looking down at my hands.

"Hear what?" It was Nikolai's turn to lean forward now. He stared at me expectantly.

I looked up at him abruptly. "Their screams. I need to hear them fucking scream. I wanted them to be conscious as I broke their little bones, one by one. I wanted them to feel everything, each fucking cut…I played with the wounds, too…" I chuckled. "They don't like it when you twist the blade in the already cut up flesh."

"You should have seen the look on their poor little faces. If they could have spoken, they would've begged me to stop." I added, smiling at the thought.

"And would you have?" He asked calmly.

"No."

He cleared his throat. "Well, you need to decide what to do with your kill. Either take him an move on, or bring him here."

"I'm bringing him in. But," I started, "I need an assignment in the meantime."

"You have to go to Nikki for that, not me. I don't assign your kills, Abel."

"I know," I nodded.

He shifted in his seat. "Go find that file, though. I'll help decide his fate." Nikolai smiled brightly. "I want to know more about this one."

"Alright," I said, reluctantly getting up.

I pushed myself off of the chair, slowly, gripping the edge of the table. I turned around and walked back down the hallway, holding my sides. Across from my bedroom, was our…study. If you could call it that. The room contained files, information on each of the kills Cole and I had performed. I entered the room, staring at the bookshelf-lined walls. I trudged over to the desk placed in between two of the shelves and opened the bottom drawer. Directly on top of the mass of folders was his file. I grabbed it and left.

"Here it is," I called, walking back into the kitchen. I tossed the file onto the table. "Go through it as much as you like."

Nikolai reached across the table and grabbed the folder. He opened the file and scanned its contents, nodding as he read. "Dexter Morgan, aged 30.…blood spatter analyst for Miami Metro…interesting…no parents, family or wife…and he's a serial killer?" Nikolai looked up at me. "And you're considering saving him. Who are his usual targets?"

"Criminals. Killers." I smiled, despite the pain. "Just like us."

"Is there a photo?"

"Yes. It's in there, just search through the file."

Nikolai rifled through the folder once more, and found the picture. He stared at it for a moment, examining the man's features. "Not bad looking. Able to blend in well I'm assuming."

"Yes, he is able to."

He nodded. "I see. Well, keep tracking him," he stood up, fixing his shirt. "I'm heading out now. I'll keep in touch."


	13. Restraint

Chapter Fifteen: Restraint

Nikolai rifled through the folder once more, and found the picture. He stared at it for a moment, examining the man's features. "Not bad looking. Able to blend in well I'm assuming."

"Yes, he is able to."

He nodded. "I see. Well, keep tracking him," he stood up, fixing his shirt. "I'm heading out now. I'll keep in touch."

And with that, he turned around and left. I heard him offer his goodbyes to Cole before shutting the front door behind him and leaving.

I wandered off into the living room, still unstable. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I paused in the entryway, and leaned up against the wall, in a trance.

"You okay?"

I didn't answer. I floated toward the couch and sat down, resting my feet on the coffee table.

I feel completely dead. A single thought takes far too much effort to form, the conjuring of a thought is painful. Each fleeing as quickly as they came. I stared blankly at the television, paying attention to the colors rather than what was being played out on the TV.

I don't care much for television.

"You want a cookie?" Cole wagged one in front of my face, the smell of chocolate overwhelming me. My stomach grumbled.

"Get that out of my face, dumbass," I said, swatting the cookie away.

"Fine, but at least tell me what is wrong."

I sighed. "I haven't in ten months."

"Oh…shit, why haven't you told me?"

"Is it really that much of a concern to you?" I asked, still looking at the TV.

"Well, yeah." He replied placidly.

I finally looked at him. "Oh? And how is it your business?"

Cole averted his gaze. "Well, you're my brother and all…and I care about you…"

I interrupted. "But it's none of your concern-"

He continued on speaking, as if I had never spoken. "…and I don't want you walking around all frustrated because you haven't gotten laid."

I froze for a moment, staring at him incredulously, then began laughing hysterically. "No, you dumbfuck," I said in between fits of laughter, " I haven't killed!"

Cole began to laugh as well. " I know, I figured. You've been on edge lately, I noticed. I just wanted you to lighten up a bit."

"Yeah, I know. Usually not like this at all." I scratched my chin. "Just going a little stir-crazy, I suppose. I need work to do."

"It's not like there's _no_ work, though."

I shrugged. "True. But this one I'm not killing."

"I know, I heard you and Nikolai talking."

"You did?" I asked.

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, you're not that quiet, Abe."

"Yeah, I guess not…" my voice trailed off. I hesitated before speaking again. "So…you heard everything?"

"Yes, I did."

"Oh."

"Yeah…why them?" his voice trembled slightly. He sounded sad as he spoke. "Why'd you go after them?"

"They're defenseless. Easy kills. Better than an innocent human, anyway."

He frowned. "But it's still an animal."

"A killer with a conscious," I snorted.

He laughed slightly. "Funny, is it not?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is funny. How," I started, "do you even have a conscience?"

His faced seemed to drop upon my asking. "I don't know. I don't think monsters like us could have one."

"So then how could you judge me for taking the life of an animal, if you go about slaughtering human beings? Life is precious, no matter whose it is. The death of a human, the death of an animal-it is no different."

"So then why do we kill?"

"I cannot answer that. All I can say, is that we were…programmed to do it. It is in our very nature," I drew in a deep breath, " to kill. All we are, all that we'll ever be, are killing machines."

He nodded slowly, taking in what I had said. "I suppose the only thing we have is standards."

"Can I see the file?"

I sighed. "It's in the kitchen, get it yourself."

"Alright," he said, lifting his body off of the couch.

I watched Cole sluggishly walk across the living room, into the kitchen on his way to retrieve Dexter's file. All of us seem to be affected by today's events, the stress taking a toll on us all. I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to relax. From the kitchen, I heard a gasp.

"Something wrong?" I asked, my eyes still closed.

Silence. "No, nothing is wrong."

"Whatever you say," I responded, not caring. I know he is lying, but at this point, I honestly could care less. My stress levels have pushed me beyond the point of concern. All I want is work.

All I want is blood.

Again, I heard him gasp as he looked through the file. I sighed, and moved my legs onto the couch, getting comfortable. My turn to sleep. I need it. I deserve it.

Cole hurried back into the living room, but stopped when he saw me laying across the couch. He stood there gaping at me.

I opened one eye and looked at him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I-"

I sat up, annoyed now. "Look, don't bullshit me. I know you're lying. So just tell me what the fuck your deal is already."

He hesitated a moment before speaking. "I…met your kill."

I looked at him questioningly. "How?" My eyes narrowed, fearing the worst. "More importantly-when? You better not be trying to take my fucking kill, so help me god if you are. I'll fucking slit your-"

"Today. I met him today. When I was going to enter the building to get registered, he came up behind me, asked who I was. Wound up standing with his… sister the whole time."

"Sister?"

_Hmm, no idea he had a sister_, I thought.

"Yeah. Both work at Metro. She's a cop."

"I haven't looked into the sister," I said, more to myself than to him. "How old would you say she is?"

He looked to the side, thinking. "Hmm, early to mid twenties?"

"And I'm assuming she has no idea as to what her beloved brother does for a living."

He smirked. "Nope. She seems to admire him, too."

"Oh really?" I thought about Alexi, in my room, sleeping soundly. Why hadn't I told her anything? I'd rather she have less on her mind, I suppose. Especially after today. She's dealt with enough.

I second guessed my plans with her. She needs the rest. "I think he might be making his rounds tonight."

"How do you know?"

"I checked his computer, found files, new ones. He's tracking someone else. A serial rapist." I paused. "You…wanna come with me?"

"I thought you were taking Alexi."

I frowned. "I want to…but the poor girl needs to rest, don't you think?"

"Yes, but you still want her to go. Don't you?"

I nodded, frowning still. "Of course. But I think she needs time to unwind."

"So do you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I desperately want to, believe me, but I don't think I could sleep. I feel it would be utterly impossible."

Cole chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I know how you feel. But, why don't you try thinking of something that would relax you?"

There's only one thing….

I pushed the thought out of my head.

"That's just it-I don't know what would relax me."

Cole began to speak, but I cut him off. "As a matter of fact, I don't think anything could relax me."

Except…

"Why?"

"Not sure. Just don't think anything could calm my mind. Not right now."

"Not until it happens again?" He asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

"No, not until then. I'll be wound up like a fucking spring until I get more work." I frowned. "It's ridiculous how bad this gets to me."

Cole nodded. "You need to learn to contain yourself. Can't be like this all the time. Sometimes you just have to wait until there are other opportunities. Otherwise you'll be killing at random."

"Yeah, I know….but I can't wait…I need it."

The blood is like my heroin..

"We all do. You just need to show restraint."

"How can I show that which I lack?" I asked, somewhat annoyed.

"You lack restraint, yes. So try to acquire it. Control yourself."

"I can control myself," my eyes narrowed. "I can."

"Really? Name a time you have been able to," he scoffed.

"Right now."

He swallowed hard. "I'm making you angry, aren't I."

"Yes, Cole, you are." I swung my feet off of the couched and sat up. "You're pissing me off. You make me feel like all I am is a soulless monster. Just a blood thirsty killer."

He moved toward me. "That's not what I was trying to do. I just wanted you to try and show a little-"

"I don't care what you're trying to do. I'm a fucking monster and that is all I will ever be."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"None of your business. But don't worry, this monster won't be leaving the confines of his cage."

I stormed out of the living room and back down into the hallway toward my bedroom. What I'm going to do, I'm not sure. I stopped at the end of the hall and stared at the little golden mass protruding from my door.

My doorknob.

The golden ball could allow me to enter my sanctuary. Or keep me from it.

I snapped out of my trance and barreled down the hall like a charging beast, and opened the door to my room. I shut the door quickly behind me so that no light would enter the room.

Alexi lay there in a deep sleep. She had not heard a thing, thankfully. The poor girl needs her rest.

As do I. I walked to the edge of the bed and slowly crawled toward the pillows. I pulled the sheets down as slowly and as carefully as possible. She stirred slightly. I paused, then moved under the sheet. Awkwardly, I tried to get comfortable, moving ever so slowly so as not to wake her. I settled into the bed, comfortable, though not entirely. Without thinking, I scooped Alexi up into my arms, and held her.

Almost instantly, I fell asleep.

Hours later I awoke, the both of us laying in the same position. Neither of us moved. I lazily lifted my left hand to my face and rubbed my eyes. I longed for more sleep. Once again, I closed my eyes, but not before pulling her closer.

Sometime later, I woke once more, this time fully rested. I turned my head toward the window.

"It's dark out," I mumbled.

"Yeah, I noticed."

I jumped slightly, unaware that she was awake. "When did you wake up?"

"Around 8:30. But," she said, turning toward me, "do you mind telling me why I woke up to you holding me? If I remember correctly, I went to sleep alone."

"Yeah, you did," I said quietly, still holding her close to me.

"So…what happened to that, Abe?"

"I don't know. I wasn't feeling well, I wanted to lay down."

"Oh…well, what was wrong?" she asked, seeming concerned.

"My stomach. Head, too, actually. I started getting a migraine."

She frowned. "Aw. Did you take anything?"

"No, I didn't."

"You never do," she said, slightly amused.

"So, when are we leaving?"

Fuck.


	14. Preparing

Chapter Fifteen

How long I had been laying there, I wasn't sure. I had woken up what seemed like hours ago, unable to break away from Abel's tight grip. A part of me didn't want to move, wanted to lay there savoring the warm embrace, something I had never experienced. It was comforting, but at the same time it saddened me.

All of my life, I was alone. Not that I cared, I don't need people to survive. I can live life on my own. But, I always felt as if something was missing. I never had a parent to hug me, or a sibling, or a friend for that matter. I was surrounded by killers from birth. We were all detached.

So I had never experienced this sort of intimacy.

I suppose, subconsciously, I always longed for someone to hold me. Remind me that I was human, that I'm not a monster. That someone could wrap their arms around me without being scared.

Abel's voice broke my reverie.

"It's dark out," he muttered sleepily.

I snorted slightly. "Yeah, I noticed."

"When did you wake up?" He said, jumping upon hearing my voice. He must have assumed I was still asleep.

"Around 8:30. But," I responded, turning to face him, "do you mind telling me why I woke up to you holding me? If I remember correctly, I went to sleep alone."

"Yeah, you did," he said quietly, seeming embarrassed.

"So…what happened to that, Abe?"

"I don't know. I wasn't feeling well, I wanted to lay down."

"Oh…well, what was wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"My stomach. Head, too, actually. I started getting a migraine."

"Aw. Did you take anything?" I frowned.

"No, I didn't," he said, still holding me close to him.

"You never do," I said, amused. "So, when are we leaving?"

Abel's body tensed when I asked, his muscles tightening around me. "Uh…I wasn't going to take you, I figured you needed the sleep…" his voice trailed off.

"But you were the one that asked me in the first place, how could you deny me now?"

I watched his face contort in the dim light, his body shifting slightly. "I still want you to come…I just…after what happened, I thought you should get some rest."

I pulled away from him, propping my body up on my elbow. I looked him squarely in the eye. "I'm fine. I don't need the rest, I think I've slept enough today."

Before he could protest, I added, "Abel, you're taking me with you. End of story."

He sank into the mattress, defeated. "Alright. Well, get up so we can start getting ready."

I grinned. "Don't sound so happy, Abe. Besides, if you didn't want me to come, shouldn't have asked."

"I guess I shouldn't have asked then, huh?" A hint of amusement in his voice.

I swatted at him, and he caught my arm, blocking my hand. "But you did, so now you're stuck with me."

"Oh, fun," he said, rolling his eyes.

I pulled my arm away and stood up, stretching my tired limbs. I bent down to retrieve my phone. Pressing the END button, the screen lit up and revealed the time.

8:45

The bed creaked as Abel sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed. "What's the matter?"

I answered him, still looking at the phone. "Nothing, it's just kinda late."

"Time?"

"It's 8:45."

His lips pursed into a firm line and he shook his head slowly. "Damn. It's not that late, but hurry and get ready. We'll need to head out in a few minutes." Abel stood up and padded across the room. "Watch your eyes," he warned, flicking the light switch on.

I shielded my eyes, bringing my arm up to block the bright fluorescent light. "Goddamn, that's way too bright." I brought my arm down and allowed my eyes to adjust to the light.

Abel had already begun to change his clothes, pulling a black thermal over his long torso. He kept on his jeans, there was no need to change out of the dark denim. He turned toward the closet, pulling out a pair of work boots. He looked up at me and smirked, noticing that I had been watching him. "A little observant tonight, are we?"

"Sorry, I couldn't help but stare at that sexy body of yours," I joked.

He laughed. "Well, if you're done staring at me, get the duffel bags from the hall closet, they're already packed."

"Alright," I complied, making my way toward his bedroom door. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The ship yards. He's going back there again," he yawned. "He's been frequenting the place…I suppose because it's so empty."

The emptiness always helps, I mused, rifling through the closet. I pushed through the mass off unneeded coats hanging from the rack, and leaned into the closet, stumbling slightly over that which I had been searching for.

I shook my head, laughing at myself. "Tripped right over what I'd been looking for."

I picked up the two bags, grunting as I did so, and hauled them off to Abel's room. I pushed the door open with the end of the bag, and Abel sprang up off of the floor, seeming startled.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing, I-"

"Abel."

The tone of my voice must have made it clear to him I wasn't kidding around. "I'm anxious. I started feeling light headed so I sat down on the floor. It's cooler down here."

"Sure," I said skeptically. "You never get anxious. Positive nothing is wrong?"

"Well, if you don't count the fact that I haven't killed in close to a year, everything's fine, kid."

I dropped the bags, my jaw following suit. "You have killed in that long?"

He frowned.

"Son of a bitch, Abel, seriously? Why don't you tell me this shit?"

He shrugged, pursing his lips.

I shook my head feverishly. "Do we have everything? Yeah? Well let's get the fuck out of here, then. I wanna meet this guy."


	15. My Gift

Chapter Seventeen: The Shipyard

We had left Abel's house, leaving a disappointed Cole behind. He understood that I needed to accompany Abel. At times, we worked as a team…when he was around that is. We aided each other whenever possible.

It was late now, the heat of the Miami sun died down, if only slightly. The humidity still remained, much to my dismay. The temperature was bearable now, yet Abel insisted on keeping the windows shut and blasting cold air through the vents of the tiny vehicle.

_I'd much rather have the windows open,_ I thought.

The ride seemed to last forever. Although, there was no traffic on the normally crowded roads, it felt as if we were moving at a snails pace down the highway. I suppose I must be anxious, much like Abel is right now. His secrecy earlier on in the day aroused the curiosity in me, and the closer I got to meeting the target, the less I can contain myself.

I feel like a child on Christmas morning, awake far too early, waiting for their parents to wake up, eyeing their gifts hungrily. Each passing moment increasing the want, the need, to tear away at the wrapped toys.

And I just can't wait to see my gift.

I glanced over at Abel, who is staring intently at the road ahead of him. Despite his focus on the road, the corners of his eyes were pulsating, twitching uncontrollably.

I turned away again. Just underneath the expanse of concrete below us, lies the harbor. The water seemed so calm, so serene, unlike the silent turmoil in this cramped car.

I long to be out on the water, in one of the boats…enjoying the cool, salty breeze…far away from everyone, and everything.

Life would be so much easier, no?

If only I could leave this all behind…

It's nice to dream, isn't it?

Yes, yes it is. But I could never leave this behind. Killing is what I was born-no, created, to do. It is in my blood.

Deep down to my very core, I am a killer. Nothing more. A cold, heartless, shell of a human sent to unleash wrath upon the very cretins that plague this society.

In a way, our work is akin to that of a garbage man. We simply clean up after humanity, ridding the world of it's waste.

"Welcome to the shipyard," Abel said.

"What a wonderful place," I muttered, "so quaint."

"Isn't it?"

"Oh yes," I said, "Now how are we going about…this?"

"I had planned on approaching him directly. I'm dressed as a worker, my presence wouldn't be questioned. Not that anyone around here cares, anyway. Even so, he would recognize me. He'd wonder why I was here, who I am," he rambled as he pulled the car off to the side behind a tower of metal crates. He shut the engine off. "I could draw him out in the open. And then you…you could inject him with the syringe."

I stared at him incredulously. "And how am I supposed to do that? Shake is hand and stab him the neck with a needle? You know, I thought I was just tagging along," I sighed.

"No. of course you'd be hiding. While I had him distracted, you take him out."

I stared at my feet. These sneakers would make a terrible amount of noise. "I'll need to take my shoes off for this then," I decided.

"Why?"

"They'll make too much noise. And if I'm doing this, I'll need to be as silent as I could possibly get."

"You'll kill your feet though," he said.

"It's just pavement. I've done it before, Abel. Trust me, it's a lot more quiet than it would be if I kept these on."

He sat back. "Yeah, you're right. Just keep watch of the ground, then, too. Be careful not to step on anything." He looked around, taking in what little of his surroundings he could see. "I know where he is. It'll be easy to find him." there was a nervous tone to his voice.

"You really are nervous, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I am. This all has to work out. Otherwise I could wind up dead, or…" his voice trailed off. He resumed speaking. "…I'd have to kill him then…and I don't want to."

"For some reason the prospect of killing him seems to sadden you."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He didn't speak.

"So it does make you sad."

Abel unclipped his seatbelt and exited the car. He peered in before closing the door. "Let's go."

Frowning, I undid my seatbelt and followed after Abel. "I hate it when you don't answer me," I called out, shutting the door slowly. I walked the length of the car and paused at the rear end. I began taking my shoes off as he opened the trunk. "Does it make you sad?"

Abel handed me one of the duffel bags. "The case with the syringes are inside, they're filled. Take one out before I draw him out. And yeah, Lex, it does upset me."

"Why are we using the syringes anyway?"

We hardly ever do,

"Knocking him out in the same way as he does with his victims," he said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. Well, why does it upset you?"

"Because he has a lot of potential. I wouldn't want that wasted. He could be very valuable to us, especially with his ties to the law enforcement."

"He's a cop?" my eyes widened.

"No. A blood spatter analyst."

"Oh," I said, tossing my shoes into the trunk along with my socks. "Well, let's go then."

"You let that go fairly quick," he said, surprised. "How come?"

"Not sure. You don't want to talk about it, so let's go before we're spotted."

"Alright," he closed the trunk and clicked the lock once, careful not to make any noise. We headed off in the direction of Abel's target, wherever that may be.

Abel and I entered the maze of metal crates, turning corner after corner until Abel blocked any further movement by placing his forearm across my chest.

He touched a finger to his lips. "He's in there," he whispered, nodding toward a large building. I hadn't noticed the building was even there until he pointed it out.

I looked up at the large building, the glass windows dirty and broken. It was lit by random light fixtures, presumably lamps hung up around the area. It wasn't _too _noticeable.

"Be quiet, and walk over to the side of the building. There's a stack of crates next to it. It should provide sufficient cover. Enough shadow to conceal you. Once you get there, remove a syringe. It contains 5mg of etorphine hydrochloride. The rest, well, we'll have to see how that all plays out. Just stay quiet," he said, pulling me into a one-armed hug.

"Alright," I whispered back, lifting the bag. I walked slowly toward the side of the warehouse, keeping watch for any broken glass or nails.

It would be a terrible time to injure myself.

I made it to the side of the building safely, and quietly, like he had asked. I lowered the bag to the ground yet again, and kneeled before it on the pavement. I began unzipping the bag.

_Stay silent.._

I repeated the mantra to myself over and over, as a way of keeping focused. Not that I had a problem staying quiet, or focused. But, for some reason, I'm especially anxious tonight.

I don't want to let it get to me.

I unzipped the bag and found the case at the bottom containing the syringes. I fingered the cool metal, tracing the sides of the case, hesitating a moment before flipping the lock.

Six needles.

All filled with a sedative volatile enough to take down a large animal.

It should be enough to incapacitate this man for a few hours.

I removed a needle, placing the capped end between my teeth as I placed the case back into the bag. I stood up and pressed my back into the grooves of the storage container, enveloping my body in shadow. At this moment, I am invisible.

At this moment, all I have to do is watch.

Abel stood in the dim light, a yellow hue casting over his body, the shadows covering his face making him seem all the more sinister. He looked to be preparing for his next move, to approach the target.

I understand his anxiety. Saving someone isn't exactly an easy thing to do. How a target would react is completely unknown to you. And in some cases, you could wind up dead before you even make a move.

Hopefully, this one won't be so much of a problem.

My eyes scanned the area, checking for anything that could complicate this task. The yard was empty for the most part, excluding the numerous crates, and Abel and I. And his target. I crossed my arms over my chest, growing bored with each passing second. Had this situation not been so important, I would have called out to him, asking him to move. His hesitation, though understandable, is beginning to get on my nerves.

I watched him stand there another moment before walking briskly toward the entrance to the building next to me. He paused to squint into the shadows, then smiled meekly offering a quick wave, to which I returned.

Abel rapped on the door, gently at first, then harder, to where he was pounding on the metal door. Seeming satisfied, he stepped away from the door, a few feet from his original position. He stared at the ground and drew in a deep, ragged breath. His head lifted, and his demeanor appeared to have changed.

He no longer looked anxious, but rather confident now. The expression on his face no longer blank, but eerily…cheery.

I cringed at the happy look on his face.

Banging could be heard from the inside of the building, the rustling of plastic and metal on metal. He must be panicked.

That's never good.

Not a moment later did the doors open, and bewildered killer stepping into the light, unaware of what was going on, or rather, what his fate would be.

That would be decided in time.

The killer seemed out of breath, shaking slightly. Quickly he composed himself, straightening his posture. Despite his attempt at calming himself, I could still see his body tremble. It wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone else. But I tend to pick up on these things.

"Hi," Abel said brightly.

"Hi…" the killer said lowly.

"Mind if I ask what you're doing in there? It's private property, sir." Abel peered over his shoulder at the door to the not so empty warehouse.

"Nothing, I work here."

"Oh, you do? Me too," he said, pointing out the name tag on his work shirt. "I don't think I've ever seen you before, though." Pressuring him, now.

"Well, I just started, so-"

"Wait just a minute!" Abel wagged a finger toward the killer. "Yeah, I've seen you 'round here. Good worker. Also bumped into you at the café, you know, the one about a block or two away from _Miami Metro_?" He put emphasis on those words, a slight accusatory tone to his now oddly high pitched voice.

He must really be nervous.

I could see the man's head nod. "Yes, I remember that."

"What'd you say your name was? John, right?"

Again, he nodded, faster now. "Yes, my name is John. But I don't remember yours."

He smiled. "The name's Abel. Abel Hyde," he let his name hang in the air for a brief moment before continuing speaking. "So, what're you up to in there, just some busy work?"

His shoulders dropped, becoming less tense. "Yeah, I'm fixing up my car, looking for some spare parts. Figured I'd come back here and snoop around, you know?"

"Yeah, I know, but," he laughed, "you wouldn't be in there killing people, would ya?" He offered a knowing smile.

The killer laughed awkwardly. "No, not tonight."

"Good, good. What a night, huh?" Abel asked, changing the subject. He placed his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath. "Gotta love the air out here, full of salt."

"Yeah, it's a good night," he agreed.

To kill anyway…

I kept watching the men talk, waiting for my time to strike. I'll give them a few more minutes, more time for the target to ease up, to become comfortable.

Just another minute or so…

Thankfully, he wasn't paranoid. Both Abel and the target stopped fidgeting. The man had ceased glancing around. He was easing up, finding ways to carry on the conversation, make Abel forget he shouldn't be here.

None of us should be.

This is all too risky.

We're out in the open, at a shipyard which is still in use. Anyone could catch us.

My heart began to pound at the thought, and I shifted awkwardly against the crate, swallowing hard. I pushed the thought out of my head and continued to observe the men.

"If only I could be out on the water right now…god, I miss my boat."

The killer took a step forward, slowly closing the distance between them. "You have a boat, huh?"

He nodded. "Mhm. I take her out after…_work_ sometimes. Busy schedule, I'm sure you can relate."

"Oh, I can…you have a family?" He asked.

"Nope, I don't. I live with my brother, he's down here looking for working, trying to get into a local school down here. Thought I'd provide a home for the kid. We've always been close. Worked together on a lot of things."

The man once again stepped forward, curious. "What things?"

Abel shrugged. "Just tasks we had to do, some complicated stuff."

The man pressed, his interest almost blatantly feigned. "Personal things?"

"Well, if you wanna know more about me, at least take me out on a date first," he joked.

The man laughed.

The two of them carried on their conversation, growing more comfortable. I took this opportunity to make my move.

I crept forward, silently, crouched slightly. I uncapped the syringe, the plastic coming off effortlessly. I moved slowly behind him, angling my body so that my shadow would not appear in his line of vision. I steadied myself, moving one foot at a time, closer and closer to him.

They laughed together now, trading jokes and petty insults. Acting like normal men. And though his jokes were entertaining, they were dry, forced. Like he had little experience when it came to playful banter, much less social interaction in itself. He was desperately trying to maintain an air of normality. But his awkwardness outweighed any strain of normality he had.

I stood up now, my height equaling his. If I were to stand up straight, I would be slightly taller than the man. But damn me for slouching. It's a terrible habit.

Closer now, just a few feet away, still unnoticed. I smiled at my ability to remain silent, stealthy. I prepped the needle, holding it up at eye level now.

I kept moving.

Closer.

And closer.

My heart pounded in my ears, sweat dripping down my neck. Adrenaline coursed throughout my veins as I neared his body.

I'm right behind him now. The moment of truth.

My heart pounded harder now, trying to beat it's way out of my chest. I closed my mouth and breathed through my nose, careful not to let him hear my deep breaths.

I steadied my hand.

One more step.

I could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

Abel let out a deep laugh, one that came from the very core of his body. He grinned wickedly at the man before him. "Hello, Dexter."

"What? How-"

"Guess what?" Abel asked, monotone now.

I stepped forward, pressing my body into his back. With one swift motion, I cupped a hand over his mouth and pressed the tip of the needle to his neck, the throbbing vein just below his jaw line. "You're coming with us," I whispered into his ear, plunging the needle into his neck, breaking the skin.

I injected the sedative into his bloodstream, Dexter's body falling limp instantly. I let go of his body, allowing him to fall to the ground.

I stared at his unconscious body as I removed the cap from my pocket, placing the plastic over the needle. I sighed, exhausted now, and turned to retrieve the duffel bag. I stepped into the shadows once more, dropping the needle into the open bag. When we arrive back home, I'll clean the bag out.

I pulled the strap over my shoulder and watched as Abel restrained Dexter's wrists with duct tape, as well as his ankles. Once he was tied, or taped, up, whichever you prefer, he looked at me. "Mind taking the other bag for me?"

"Not a problem," I said, half running toward the second bag. "Need help with the body?"

"Nope," he said, lifting the body up, letting out a loud grunt.

He stared at me. "Ready to go?"

"You know it, " I yawned. "Lead the way out of this damned maze."

He nodded, shifting Dexter's body once more, before rushing out of the shipyard toward his car.

Once back at the car, he unlocked it, and set his body down across the back seat, making sure he fit. He shut the door, careful not to hit the man's feet. "Holy, fuck. Lex, I'm glad that worked out," he sighed, a pained expression across his face.

I nodded, agreeing. "That could've gone terribly wrong…for all of us. Shouldn't you be happy, though? You seem miserable."

"Oh, I'm not," he shook his head rapidly. "I'm just drained now, I'm glad this is all over. For the most part anyway."

"Yeah, so am I."

"Are you coming back by me?" He asked. "You don't have to go back home you know."

"I'd stay, but I think I better go home. If Nikolai talked to Nikki like he said he would, she's going to have some questions for me." I groaned inwardly at the thought of yet again repeating today's events.

I'd rather shoot myself in the face.

He nodded. "Alright. Well, I'll get you in the morning, once this guy wakes up."

"Sounds good," I said. "I need to shower, though." I grimaced as I lifted up my now black feet. The bottoms of my feet are covered in dirt.

"Ugh, your feet are gross," he said, his face twisting at the sight of my horrid looking feet.

"Yeah, I know," I sulked.

"Well, let's get you home then so you can shower, you filthy bitch," he laughed.

"That's the best kind of bitch," I joked.

"True, but not your kind. You're just dirty," he laughed louder now, his sides shaking.

"Yeah, yeah. Get me out of here," I chuckled as we entered the car simultaneously.

Abel turned the car on, and exited the shipyard, taking the same road home.

I watched the water again, the harbor empty of all it's boats.

Nothing to disturb the water.

Much like us now, that there is nothing to disturb us. The turmoil long gone, though the silence remains.

My eyelids grew heavy, the stress of today once again taking it's toll on me, my body drained now. I allowed my eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.

What a fucking day.


	16. Nikki

Chapter Eighteen: Nikki

Abel turned the car on, and exited the shipyard, taking the same road home.

I watched the water again, the harbor empty of all it's boats.

Nothing to disturb the water.

Much like us now, that there is nothing to disturb us. The turmoil long gone, though the silence remains.

My eyelids grew heavy, the stress of today once again taking it's toll on me, my body drained now. I allowed my eyes to close and drifted off to sleep.

What a fucking day.

I awoke sometime later, Abel's hand rubbing the side of my arm, gently trying to wake me up. "We're here," he whispered.

I nodded sleepily. "Alright. Thanks for the ride home."

"No problem, Lex. He should be up soon…I'll get you in the morning."

Opening the car door, I said, "Well, good luck with that. I'll let you know when I'm awake. Goodnight, Abel."

"Night, loser," he called out, shutting the door for me.

I grinned into the darkness, listening to his car pull away as I treaded up the walkway to my home. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the driveway was empty, Nikki's car absent from it's spot in front of the house.

Odd, I thought, approaching the front door.

I pulled my house key out of my back pocket and placed it in the key hole, turning the piece of metal sharply to the side to unlock the door. With a loud click, the lock opened, granting me access into my home. I stepped through the doorway, savoring the silence my home provided. It was a welcomed greeting after today's events.

No lights were on in the house, and due to the lack of street lights on our end of the block, the interior of the home was pitch black. I blinked a few times, forcing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I reached out, scaling the wall, searching for the light switch.

Once I felt the small switch protruding from the wall, I squeezed my eyes shut in order to block out the bright light. I flipped the switch, and after a moment, opened my eyes, and shrieked at what was before me.

"You fucking bitch!" I yelled.

Nikki stood in front of me, smirking slightly. "Didn't scare you, did I?"

I leaned back against the wall. "Oh, no, not at all. You appearing out of fucking nowhere didn't scare me one bit."

"Good, I'm glad," she said. "Come into the kitchen once you've recovered."

"Yeah, sure."

I sighed heavily, sliding down the wall and onto the floor. With a thud, I hit the wooden panels, wincing slightly. "God dammit," I mumbled, "I've been through enough shit today…and now I have her appearing out of nowhere? Bullshit."

I stared out into the large, open living room. An oversized brown sectional took up a portion of the room, it's cushions still in their original condition from the lack of usage. The furniture was mostly for show. The blood red walls were lined with shelves containing various books of various genres, all untouched. A television was mounted on the wall, the large screen centered, candle holders on either side. Despite the amount of furniture in the room, it all seemed so vacant.

This isn't a home…

But I don't mind it much.

I enjoy the emptiness.

I have become accustomed to it.

I decided no to waste anymore time, and reluctantly stood up. I stretched my muscles, the bones in my body cracking and popping with each movement. I set off in the direction of the kitchen.

Nikki sat at the kitchen table, back facing me, her posture incredibly straight. Her body seemed rigid, tense. Nikki sat there, stirring a cup of tea, the spoon colliding with the sides of the ceramic. If she stirred the tea any faster, the small spoon might crack the fragile material.

Suddenly, it relaxed, her body sinking into the chair. Though I hadn't made a sound, she turned her head slightly to the side so that one seemingly black eye stared at me. "Sit down," she commanded.

I walked past her, taking the seat at the opposite end of the table, much like I had earlier on in the day with Abel. I stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak.

"How was your day?" She asked nonchalantly.

"Wonderful. I arrive at the school, receive my schedule, walk to Nikolai's class. Not ten minutes later, Cameron and two others are slaughtered."

"So I heard." Nikki ceased stirring the tea. "How was Cameron acting when she was around you?"

"She was nervous. Paranoid even; glancing in every direction, stuttering. I thought she was going to have a breakdown or something," I sighed.

"Considering her obvious homicidal tendencies, do you think she could be responsible for the deaths at the school?"

I leaned back, pondering her question. I hadn't considered this. "Well, the killings of the secretaries possibly, but I don't know about her own death. Wasn't the scene like something out of a horror movie? Another thing, how did the principal even have time to send that mass email out? You'd think all the staff would be eliminated…"

"All the questions seem to lead only to more questions," she mused.

"No kidding…could the principal have played a part in this…? For this person to have gone unnoticed, they would have to have had access to the school's security system, primarily the camera's. so either security, or someone with close ties could have had the system shut down long enough to kill them all."

"That's true," she agreed, "but remember, the principal wasn't well liked."

"Ah."

"I assume Abel has captured his target?" She asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"Yeah, why?"

"You have a new assignment. You alone are to interrogate Dexter Morgan. Find out as much as you possibly can."

Nikki rose from her chair, leaving her tea behind. "Get some rest. You have a lot of work to do."

"But why me? This is Abel's target," I protested. The last thing I need now is another assignment.

"And this is your kill. Find out as much as you can," she said, turning her back to me. She left, disappearing into the dark hallway.

I stared at the spot where her body once stood, thinking to myself.

She's like a ghost…always disappearing..


	17. Oh, the Bodies

Chapter Nineteen

"You have a new assignment. You alone are to interrogate Dexter Morgan. Find out as much as you possibly can."

Nikki rose from her chair, leaving her tea behind. "Get some rest. You have a lot of work to do."

"But why me? This is Abel's target," I protested. The last thing I need now is another assignment.

"And this is your kill. Find out as much as you can," she said, turning her back to me. She left, disappearing into the dark hallway.

I stared at the spot where her body once stood, thinking to myself.

She's like a ghost…always disappearing..

I cleared my throat and reached across the table, picking Nikki's mug up to place it into the sink. But, when I lifted the cup, it was completely empty. No trace of any liquid whatsoever.

I raised an eyebrow, examining the cup like as if it were a new species of animal. What was she doing, stirring an empty cup? I peered into the cup once more before setting it down into the sink.

I shook my head, and wandered out of the kitchen, not bothering to turn the light off. Nikki could do it. I just want sleep.

I dragged my tired body up the stairs to my bedroom, my legs far too weak to handle the weight of my body. I felt as if I were about to collapse. I reached my bedroom door and flung it open, slamming it behind me as I used the last bit of energy I had left to sprint to my bed. I flopped down onto the mattress, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

The loud, piercing ring of my cell phone startled me, eliciting a loud gasp from my now wide awake body. I groaned into the pillow, dreading yet another day of the same stressful…bullshit, for lack of a better word.

I was far too exhausted to shower last night. I looked down at my clothes, still in the same t-shirt and jeans as last night. My shoes were on as well. I yawned, and got out of bed and began taking my clothes off, removing layer after layer painfully slow.

After all of my clothes had been removed, I traipsed over to the bathroom, which, fortunately for me, is in my bedroom. Nikki had decided to allow me to have the master bedroom when we first moved here. And right now, I'm grateful she did that.

I locked the door behind me, and turned the shower on, allowing the water to run for a moment in order to heat up. Once the steam began to pour out, I stepped into the tub and into the water, letting it run over my body before washing myself. I grabbed the shampoo bottle and poured a small amount into my hands and rubbed it through my hair until my scalp was covered in strawberry-smelling suds. I rinsed my hair, running my fingers through it to make sure all of the shampoo was gone. I reached for the bar of soap, running it under the water first so that it would lather quickly. I took my time rubbing the soap over my body, washing off all the dirt, all the sweat, from the night before. I placed the bar back in its original spot and continued to rub the soap in before stepping underneath the hot water yet again, only this time to rinse my body.

I turned the faucet off and stepped out of the tub, and onto the towel that I had left there. Having it there lessens the chance of slipping. I walked to the sink and grabbed my tooth brush, wetting it before applying the tooth paste to the bristles. I brushed my teeth, then applied product to my wet hair so that it would refrain from curling. I have no time to do my hair today.

I left the bathroom, darting off in the direction of my closet. I rushed to get dressed, throwing everything on rapidly. I quickly buttoned my shirt, and fixed the belt on my jeans before slipping my sneakers on and heading downstairs. I stopped midway, and ran back up to get my phone.

I called Abel.

After a few rings, he picked up. "Hey, Lex."

"Morning," I said. "I'm ready. Are you still getting me?"

"No. Cole is," he said quickly.

"How come?"

"I have to baby sit our friend here."

"Oh. Well, I'll be waiting outside," I informed him.

"Alright, well he should be there in a few minutes, he left about five or ten minutes ago."

"Okay, Abe."

"See ya, kid."

"Bye."

The phone clicked, signaling that he had hung up. I stuffed the phone into my pocket and went into the kitchen. Nikki was up. "Not hiding in the shadows anymore?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, not now at least," she responded. "You remember what you're supposed to do?"

"Yes," I said, "I have to interrogate Morgan."

Nikki nodded slowly. "Mhm. You are to find out as much information about the killings as possible."

"But how would he know about them in the first place? Granted he works for Metro, but still."

"Just interrogate him," she said, as a horn beeped obnoxiously outside of the house.

"Ugh, I'll be home later on. Bye," I said, turning around sharply and walking out of the house.

Cole's car sat outside the house, the anxious driver behind the wheel. I walked to the car and noticed that Cole looked panicked, like someone was after him. I squinted, trying to look into the window of the car. He was shifting uncomfortably, picking at his nails. I opened the door, startling him, and climbed in. "You okay?"

He sped off away from the house. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little nervous about Abe's target."

"Why?" I turned to face him.

"I know him, I've met him. I know who his sister is, too. She was at the house. And he knows she was with me. So when he sees me…" he trailed off.

"He's going to recognize you, and wonder what part you have in all this. And see you as a threat to his sister."

"Basically."

"But how do you even know him?" I asked curiously.

"He was at the school yesterday. He was with all the cops. And as for his sister, because I couldn't get into the school, she babysat me the whole time. Followed me home and everything," he said. I watched him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, his face taking on a shade of red.

"So, this is why she wants me to do this…he was there," I muttered.

"Do what?" Cole asked, turning down another street.

"I have a new assignment, and-"

"Already? He said, surprised.

"Yes. I'm supposed to interrogate him."

"Oh. Well, have fun with that. He seems cooperative…mostly, anyway. You're a kid, he should be fine with you," he remarked.

"I'm not much younger than either of you, but yeah….this should be fun."

He yawned as he turned the car, pulling into the driveway. "Yeah, a lot of fun."

Abel was waiting for me in the living room. Once I had stepped through the doorway, he sprang up off of the couch and grabbed my arm, dragging me to…well, I don't know. He seemed wired, full of energy. His eyes darted every which way, and through the grip I now had on his wrist, his pulse was beating at an incredible rate.

He stopped, and looked at me, his eyes wide. "He's down there, in he basement. I've been up all night waiting for you. Nikki called, told me what you had to do. Here," he said quickly, running back into the kitchen. He returned, about four or five legal pads in one hand, and a fistful of pens in the other. He held them out. "I figured you'd keep all the information in your head, but it's better to have a record…you know?"

I didn't respond, just looked at him.

"Well, go on. He's waiting," he said, opening the door for me.

I walked slowly down the creaking steps of the basement, ducking my head under the low ceiling above the stairs. It was hot down here, very humid, making it hard to breathe.

Poor guy, I thought, stuck down here.

I shook my head, erasing all sympathy that I had. I need to remain objective now. But how can I? This is my case, and this man was there, examining the scene of their death.

Just question him, and get it over with.

I reached the last step, hopping off and turning toward the back of the basement. It was fully lit down here, the finished basement about as bright as the sun outside. I kicked off my shoes, stepping onto the surprisingly cool tile floor, and continued on.

About a few feet away from me, was Dexter Morgan, sitting on the floor, his arms stretched out on either side in a Christ-like position, hand cuffed to the wall.

I frowned. "Dexter?"

His head snapped up, a hostile look on his face. It soon disappeared. "What?"

I scratched the back of my head. "My name is Alexi. Today, as much as I don't want to do this, I have to interrogate you," I said, being straightforward with him.

He cocked his head to the side slightly. "And why are you interrogating me? You're just a kid."

I rolled my eyes. "I may be only seventeen years old, but that doesn't mean I'm a child. I'm ten times more mature than people your age, believe it or not. Anyway, I have a specific reason for questioning you-"

"Are you the reason I was brought here?" He seemed dead. No emotion at all.

"No. I'm not. But, Dexter, I'm the one that's supposed to be asking the questions."

I sat on the floor across from him, eye level. "So how is it that a blood spatter analyst for Miami Metro gets away with being a serial killer?"

He seemed shocked, his eyes widening for a second. "Since you already know who I am, I'll be honest with you. No point in hiding anything now. But, I guess I'm just good at hiding things."

"As am I. When did this all start?"

"When I was younger. My father noticed, he trained me, gave me a code to go by. I've been killing for years," he deadpanned.

"What did your father do?"

"He was a cop."

I snorted. "Law enforcement runs in the family, then. Since Daddy knows, does your sister know that you kill as well?"

"No."

"Well, your dishonesty I'm sure will count against you, but it's understandable. We all have to hide our true selves from society."

"We?"

"Who have you seen aside from me? You met Abel, obviously so, but have you seen Cole?" I laughed. "Oh, well you have met him. He was at the school. Your sister followed him home. Remember?"

"Who are all of you?" he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at me.

"We're all killers. Assassins, really. You were taken here because you are much like us, killing only those who deserve to die. I was sent here to kill. And once the task was completed, I was supposed to move on without a goddamned trace. But no, my kill was taken from me." My voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "And I wanna know who the fuck it was that did it."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"You were at the school. Being an analyst, you were granted access to the scene of the murder. And I assume you saw the bodies of those that were killed-"

"What bodies?" He asked.

I moved back slightly, startled at his question. "What do you mean? Three people were slaughtered."

"Obviously, but there were no bodies in the school. The entire office was empty, the only thing that _was_ in there, was blood. And a lot of it."

"How the fuck were there no bodies! Where was everyone? The principal?"

"There was no one there. They were all gone," he said, as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh, what the fuck," I said, slamming my hand down on the floor beside me.

"It's just as puzzling for me as it is for you, but I guess this is more personal for you."

"No shit._ I_ was supposed to kill the guidance counselor. But I can't now, can I?" I clenched my jaw.

"No. But why kill her?"

"She was a serial killer. Offed children, those who didn't fit her standards."

He scowled. "Children?"

"Yup."

"Well, she's dead now."

"That's not enough for me. I need to find whoever did this," I said darkly.


	18. The Brotherhood

**Chapter Twenty**

"**Oh, what the fuck," I said, slamming my hand down on the floor beside me. **

"**It's just as puzzling for me as it is for you, but I guess this is more personal for you."**

"**No shit.**_** I**_** was supposed to kill the guidance counselor. But I can't now, can I?" I clenched my jaw.**

"**No. But why kill her?"**

"**She was a serial killer. Offed children, those who didn't fit her standards."**

**He scowled. "Children?"**

"**Yup."**

"**Well, she's dead now."**

"**That's not enough for me. I need to find whoever did this," I said darkly.**

**Dexter nodded, his dead eyes staring back at me. He seems drained.**

"**Do you need anything? I asked.**

"**Like?"**

"**I don't know. Water, food?'**

**He shrugged, causing the chains to rattle. "For someone holding me captive, you're unusually caring. Water, I guess."**

**I mimicked him, shrugging as well. "Well, I can't have **_**you **_**dying. You're important to us…do you need anything else?"**

"**Yeah," he said flatly.**

"**And what is that?"**

**He stared at me. "An explanation as to why I'm here. A real reason."**

**My brows furrowed. "It's not my place to tell you. Just…wait. Let me get the water for you. I'll see if I can tell you," I moved to get up.**

"**I don't want it anymore, just tell me why I'm here."**

"**Dexter, I can't."**

"**If you can keep me locked in here, you can tell me why," he growled.**

**I stood up and rushed toward him. I'm in his face, now. "My job is to interrogate you on the murders. Why you're here, that's a whole other story. And you'll find out why soon-"**

"**Just tell him," Abel's voice bellowed. I stood up straight and looked behind me. "He has to find out soon, anyway. He can't be held here. Remember who he works for?"**

"**Yeah…you're right," I said, sighing. I looked at Dexter who was glancing from Abel to me.**

**I stepped back and looked at Abel, searching for the right words to say. The right way to go about explaining this. I shook my head. "Well, Dexter, you're here for an important reason," I started. **

**Before I could continue, Abel began speaking. "She's right. You are very valuable to us."**

**Dexter's face wrinkled, confused. "How am I valuable?"**

"**You're a killer, just like we are. You're clean, efficient…and you follow the same standards, which is the main reason you were brought here," he said.**

"**So, I'm chained in your basement because of my standards?" He glared.**

**I spoke. "Dexter, you follow the same standards. You kill only those who deserve to die. Much like us. In a way, we are protectors. Do you know how many deaths we are responsible for?"**

"**Or how long we've been around?" Abel asked.**

**Dexter just stared, unable to speak.**

"**Our existence…it's nothing but a myth. At least to most of…humanity. Surely, you've heard of the Masked Ones, who steal those away who do wrong? But, in reality, we are much more than that. We have been around for over five hundred years, performing executions, eliminating the…impurities of the world, if you will. It all dates back to around 1510, to the two families called upon by the church. Moriarty, and Gilchrist. Why they were chosen, who knows. These two families were extremely close. And extremely efficient killers.**

"**Any death, aside from the public hangings, were made to look like accidents. Or, the bodies would never show up. The people would suspect either kidnapping, or that the person decided to pack up and leave. No one suspected murder. Not did they suspect these two prominent families to be performing all these killings. They wore masks to hide themselves. Thus, comes our need, or rule of secrecy. We are never to reveal our true selves. **

**I paused, taking a moment to think back. "At first, they followed the Churches rules, acting as goons in a way. They eliminated whoever the church members desired. Used them for scare tactics, of sorts, to make the people pray harder, be stronger believers. But after the coming of the new Pope, the families separated from the church. They kept to themselves, but never stopped killing. They developed their own code to follow, targeting only those who posed a threat to innocent people.**

"**Like I said, we were always protectors. The families were the only ones to know about the killings. The young boys were trained; taught how to fight, how to remain stealthy. There were even lessons of the effects of various poisons-what to use in order to kill or incapacitate. The women were skilled as well. They were especially useful in certain cases. Mostly when working in teams. Both families were comprised entirely of trained assassins. **

"**The Brotherhood was formed, nonetheless, the secrets of their actions remaining untold, remaining within the walls of their homes. The people were still afraid of them, they feared the Masked Killers would come back at any point. The Church had preached about them significantly less, no longer using their presence as a way to increase the people's fear in God. Their presence wasn't as intimidating. But they were still their, watching their every move, hiding in the shadows. Or in plain sight. **

"**Other members were not taken in until sometime later, when the Brotherhood adopted the policy of Saving. Which was a long, trying process. Although, it could be sped up in some instances." I looked at Abel. Usually Saving could take months, even years, to do. But he only waited about three months. "Basically, one of the Brothers' would be given a task, a hit. While tracking their target, if they saw any sign that the individual was, at least to us…or them, in their right mind, the assassin would refrain from killing, and continue to track them.**

"**And Elder would be informed of the Brother's wish to Save this individual. Then, the target, unbeknownst to the, would be placed on a probationary period of sorts. They would be watched, their every move scrutinized. And if they deviated away from the killings we perceived as just, they would be annihilated without a second thought. But, if they did not deviate away, they would continue to be tracked, until captured by the Brother responsible for their fate. The Brother would offer to take them in, and watch over them, and make sure there was a never a possibility of them being caught," I took a deep breath. I hate these speeches.**

"**And that is why you are here, Dexter. We've taken an interest in you. You have proved yourself worthy of becoming a member of the Brotherhood. Not once have you harmed an innocent. You are a good man. And an even better killer."**

**Abel spoke, now. "And we would like to take you in. Here, you will be safe. Never again will you have to hide your true self. The secrets that have plagued you, that have eaten away at you, you can finally share. Now you can be open. No longer will you have to wear a mask. You're safe here, Dexter," he repeated. "You won't have to operate on your own anymore. We will eliminate all chances of you being caught."**

**I took a step forward. "Will you accept?"**

**Abel and I stared expectantly at Dexter, awaiting his answer. My heart began to beat faster as I watched him contemplate everything he had heard. He put his head down and stared at his lap, thinking still.**

"**Well?" Abel pressed, growing impatient.**

**Dexter shook his head. "I'll do it."**

**Abel grinned, nearly squealing like an overexcited school girl upon hearing Dexter's response. I smiled. "Now, Abel will remove the restraints. Can we trust you?"**

"**Can I trust **_**you?" **_**Dexter asked. **

**I nodded. "You can trust all of us. You're safe, as we said. No one is going to harm you. No one will find out about you."**

"**Although, he will have to speak to Nikolai," Abel said.**

"**True. But we'll do that later. Now, just let him go. Let him walk, eat, shower, whatever," I said. "Don't forget though, I still have to question you."**

**Dexter nodded. "That's fine. Just let me go."**

**Abel removed a set of keys from the pocket of his shorts and approached Dexter. He grabbed one of the cuffs and unlocked it, freeing one of his hands. He did the same to the other.**

**Dexter sat there, rubbing his wrists, examining the red marks the metal rings left behind. **

"**Come on," Abel said, offering his hand.**

**Heavy footsteps pounded on the ceiling above us, heading toward the kitchen. We all looked up, wondering why the sound was being made. The basement door opened, and those same frantic footsteps barreled down the stairs. Abel and I turned while Dexter rose to his feet, standing in between us. Cole appeared at the opposite side of the basement, breathing heavy.**

"**What's wrong?" Abel asked.**

"**D-Deb, his sister is here," he choked. "She's looking for you," Cole pointed at Dexter.**

"**She's here. She wanted to know if I had seen him. Said she's been calling your cell."**

"**Fuck," Dexter muttered. He looked at Abel. "Where is my stuff? Or the body that was in the warehouse?"**

**I panicked. Had Abel taken the body?**

**Abel spoke. "While I drove away, Cole cleaned up after you. All of your equipment, including your cell phone, is in a bag upstairs. Don't worry."**

"**Well, that's not that big of a deal," I said to Cole. "Did you tell her no?"**

"**Yes, but she's still here. I told her I didn't know where he was, but she wanted to come in. She wants to stay for a little while until she hears from him."**

**Abel clenched his fists. "God fucking dammit! Cole, I'll go upstairs with you, and I'll get Dexter's cell. Once I have it, I'll bring it back down to you, alright?" He said to Dexter. "Alexi, you two stay down here. Come on," He said, walking upstairs with Cole. The basement door slammed shut.**

**The Hyde brothers walked toward the living room, their footsteps echoing throughout the basement. The front door opened, then shut, the sound of muffled laughter could be heard.**

**I laughed slightly. "Well, that was certainly unexpected."**

"**Yeah, it was. Why would Deb come here?" He seemed puzzled.**

"**Well, didn't you recognize Cole? He was standing outside the school with you. Deb was watching him. She escorted him home."**

"**I hadn't recognized him at first, no. even so, why would she come here? Me and Cole obviously aren't close and we barely know each other. **_**They **_**barely know each other."**

**I laughed, causing Dexter to look at me funny. "Sorry, that's just the most I've heard you say. Not much of a talker, are you?"**

**The words hit me hard.**

**Cameron had said them to me.**

"**No, more of a thinker. But, weren't you supposed to…question me?"**

"**Yes," I said. I padded over toward the couch up against the wall. I sat down, patting the cushions of the couch. "Sit. I assure you it's more comfortable than the tile."**

**He smiled. "One can only hope," he said, taking a seat at the opposite end.**

**I crossed my legs, sitting 'Indian Style" on the couch. I leaned forward resting my elbows on my thighs. A strand of hair fell in my face. I tucked it behind my ear. "So, what exactly did the office look like?"**


	19. God Dammit

Chapter Twenty One

I laughed, causing Dexter to look at me funny. "Sorry, that's just the most I've heard you say. Not much of a talker, are you?"

The words hit me hard.

Cameron had said them to me.

"No, more of a thinker. But, weren't you supposed to…question me?"

"Yes," I said. I padded over toward the couch up against the wall. I sat down, patting the cushions of the couch. "Sit. I assure you it's more comfortable than the tile."

He smiled. "One can only hope," he said, taking a seat at the opposite end.

I crossed my legs, sitting 'Indian Style' on the couch. I leaned forward resting my elbows on my thighs. A strand of hair fell in my face. I tucked it behind my ear. "So, what exactly did the office look like?"

Dexter leaned back, sinking into the brown, suede couch. He rested his tired head on the back cushion, and began speaking. "It looked like someone came in with buckets of blood, and doused the entire office in it. There were no bodies, not even fragments of skin. All of the DNA from the crime scene is being analyzed, but…there's almost no point."

"How so?"

"There were no bodies. No signs that one was even removed. There was just blood," he paused. "The principal gave an announcement after the murders did he not? Abel had mentioned that to me."

"Abel talked to you?" I shook my head. "Never mind that. But, yes, the principal did. I was there for it. Why?"

"We checked the records. He hadn't signed in that day. His car wasn't in the parking lot."

My heart sank, leaving nothing but a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. "So who gave the announcement…?"

"That's just it. We don't know. We'll have people review all the security tapes from the school, see if anyone suspicious had entered. But there was no record of him signing in."

"Has anyone talked to the families? Did the principal even leave his home?"

"Not sure."

"We'll need to find out….your sister is a detective, right?" I sat up now, crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yes, she is. Why?" Dexter raised an eyebrow.

I hesitated a moment. "We could use her help…I'd rather talk to her personally. But, we'd have to go through you. Although, she does seem to be comfortable with Cole, no?"

"Well, she's visiting Cole, so I would assume so. Do you think he could question her and find things out for you?"

"For _us," _I corrected. "We're all working on this case, now. I hate the prospect of using your sister to obtain information."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sure there will come a point where Debra questions yours and Cole's morbid interest in this case. And if she does, you'll both have to lie."

"Obviously. I can't risk her finding out who I truly am…or about you guys."

"No, you can't risk that. You'd wind up in prison. I'm not sure what would happen to us, seeing as there are thousands of members. We're not some tiny cult of estranged psychos that they could easily apprehend. We have Brothers everywhere. And we're extremely difficult to locate."

"I know. How many of you are there?"

"Roughly? Over five hundred thousand, maybe."

"Do you all…know that you exist?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you all met? Is there something that keeps track of all of you?"

"Well, of course. There's a record of all of the Brotherhood members; the Elders, members born into the Brotherhood, ones that are taken in; you get the picture."

He nodded. "Must be a lot to keep track of."

"It's gotten easier over time, with all the technological advances. Remember the two families I mentioned before? They're still in power. They're very wealthy. They both reside in Ireland, although the Gilchrist's were Scottish immigrants."

"Oh? Who are you descendants of?"

"I'm not really a descendant of either family. I was orphaned as a baby, and taken in by a French couple, both the husband and wife killers. They were excellent fighters as well. Which, is funny, considering the name translates to "well defended". I suppose it wasn't so true, though. They were both killed. Mugging gone bad."

"Did you live in France?"

"Yes. Up until I was age 12. I lived in Salers, a village in southern France. I moved to New Jersey after my parents were killed. I moved in with my Guide. Then we moved down here to Miami."

"You don't have an accent, though," he noted.

"Because I do a good job of hiding it," I smiled. "It is very prominent, despite the fact I mask it well. If you listen the way I say things, you can hear it."

"I'll make sure to listen for it then," the corners of his lips turned upward slightly. 

"Mhm…but whenever you return back to work, you're main focus will be the killings in the school, right?"

"Yes," he said.

"Well, keep us updated. Mostly me, because this was my case to begin with. Which reminds me, now that you're a part of the Brotherhood, although unofficial, you'll be working under our rules. But you're a special case."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Despite that you'll have to work under our rules, we'll let you choose your own kills. You will need to make a file for each, though. We need a record of your assignments."

"Isn't Abel supposed to be running through this…procedure with me?"

"Yes, but since I'm going to be dealing with you the most, I might as well tell you what's going to happen over time."

"Yeah."

I sighed, and laid down on the couch, stretching my legs out. I bent them to make sure my feet didn't hit Dexter's legs. I placed an arm over my eyes. "I've never been this stressed out. This hit, I swear to God, will be the death of me."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Not your fault, just a lot to deal with now. I thought this would be simple…"

"Nothing is ever simple."

"Believe me, I know."

The basement door opened slowly, and shut quickly. The basement stairs creaked as one of the Hyde's entered the basement. 

"Here's your cell," Abel said, handing the phone over to Dexter.

"What's the matter with you?" Abel asked, staring at me.

"Life." I laughed dryly. "How's everything going upstairs?"

Abel sighed. "She won't leave. Says she won't until she hears from him. So call her, Dex."

"Alright," Dexter nodded, turning the phone on. 

"Put it on silent in case she calls again." Abel ordered. "But hurry."

The phone powered up, it's screen flashing different colors as it loaded. Dexter punched in the number, and waited for his sister to answer. Above us, a phone rang, and it was soon answered. Deb's panicked voice could be heard clearly from upstairs. "Hey, Deb."

Debra's voice filled the air as she ranted at Dexter, angry for him not answering his phone. The sociopath feigned his guilt, coaxing his sister into believing he was truly sorry.

I stared at Abel as the two siblings carried on their conversation for a few more minutes until the room became silent. We both turned to look at Dexter. He was glancing wildly at the both of us. He hung up.

I pushed myself up. "What's wrong?"

Abel moved forward, closer to Dexter. "You alright?"

He looked at the both of us. "She uh…she heard me talking."

"Well, no shit, you're on the phone-"

"No. She could hear me talking even as she put the phone down."

Once again, we heard the familiar pounding of feet on the hardwood floor, this time even louder. Debra's voice became louder now, clearer. We could make out what she was saying finally.

"Where is my brother!" she shouted.

Cole's response was muffled. He must be trying to remain calm, otherwise he would have been just as loud. His voice carried on for a moment, trying to relax her. 

Debra kept asking where Dexter was.

The same footsteps once again entered the kitchen, and we all stood up now, fearful that she might enter the basement. Abel slowly approached the stairs, but halted quickly as the basement door flung open. 

"What the hell is going on up there?" He asked.

Debra rushed down the basement stairs, pausing when she saw Dexter standing with me in the center of the room. 

She looked around the basement, baffled by what was going on. "What the fuck is going on, Dex? I've been trying to call you since _yesterday_. And when I come here, seeing if you dropped by for some odd reason, they say you never showed. And then you call? And I could hear you talking! What the fuck?"

Cole placed a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off violently. "Calm down. I hadn't known your brother was here. I haven't been down here in god knows how long."

"What about him? Didn't he know?" She narrowed her eyes at Abel.

"I didn't know he was your brother. I came down here to see if they needed anything," he jerked his thumb back at us. 

She nodded skeptically. She looked at Dexter. "Why are you here?"

"I know Abel. He's worked on my car a few times. We're friends," Dexter lied.

"You're a mechanic?"

"No. Tattoo artist, actually. But I'm good with cars. I do repairs for lower prices than the shops out there. Side work, really."

"Is he really your friend, Dexter?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Yes, he is. Relax, Deb. It's not liked they kidnapped me or anything," he muttered. "I was just here to drop by. Abel called, asked if we could hang for a bit. I had time to spare. Wound up getting too tired, so I stayed over night. But my phone died, no alarm to wake me. We all over slept. We woke up when she got here," he said, looking over at me.

"And who are you?"

"Alexi," I said. I offered her my hand. She didn't budge. "Hmm. Alright then. Quite the friendly one, aren't we."

"Normally, yes, but not right now. Dexter, I wish you had answered. LaGuerta is going to be pissed when you come in tomorrow."

"Why? You know she likes me." He seemed disgusted at that statement. 

"We're all working on the Miami High Blood Bath case. It's been so fucking hectic over at Metro. We needed you, Dex." She was calmer now.

"I'll be in tomorrow." He smiled sheepishly.

"By the way, if you stayed overnight, where's your car? And how come you're dressed like that?"

I turned to look at Dexter. He was dressed in a brown thermal, unusual for someone living in this area. It was stained with blood, if only slightly, a few specks here and there. He wore heavy cargo pants, his brown steel toes' laced tightly on his feet. And, if I'm not mistaken, a pair of black latex gloves peeked out of his left pocket. 

"Abel picked me up. And I don't know, thought I'd change first."

"But you said you drove," Deb said, frowning.

Dexter's brows furrowed in frustration. "Look, it doesn't matter. I'm here. You found me. I'll be in work tomorrow."

She sighed. "Fine. I'm gonna go home. I'll see you at work tomorrow. You better come up with a good excuse for this shit, Dex," she said as she walked back up the basement stairs. 

She left the house, shutting the door quickly behind her.

"Holy fucking hell," Abel sighed. "I thought she was never gonna leave."


	20. Death

Chapter Twenty Two

"By the way, if you stayed overnight, where's your car? And how come you're dressed like that?"

I turned to look at Dexter. He was dressed in a brown thermal, unusual for someone living in this area. It was stained with blood, if only slightly, a few specks here and there. He wore heavy cargo pants, his brown steel toes' laced tightly on his feet. And, if I'm not mistaken, a pair of black latex gloves peeked out of his left pocket.

"Abel picked me up. And I don't know, thought I'd change first."

"But you said you drove," Deb said, frowning.

Dexter's brows furrowed in frustration. "Look, it doesn't matter. I'm here. You found me. I'll be in work tomorrow."

She sighed. "Fine. I'm gonna go home. I'll see you at work tomorrow. You better come up with a good excuse for this shit, Dex," she said as she walked back up the basement stairs.

She left the house, shutting the door quickly behind her.

"Holy fucking hell," Abel sighed. "I thought she was never gonna leave."

"Yeah, I know," Cole said. "I thought she was never going to leave. Where is his car, actually?"

"In the garage."

"How?"

"I called in a favor," Abel said calmly.

I threw myself back onto the couch. "Let me guess; Nikolai?"

He nodded.

"Well, now that we're all here…why not discuss what we saw at the school?" I suggested. "Both Dexter and Cole were outside. I was inside the building, though I didn't have access to much."

"All that I saw while outside, were the numerous detectives scattered about the courtyard." He paused for a moment. "No. actually, I saw them bringing bodies out. They were on the gurneys. It was a few minutes before I had text you."

"What bodies did you see?" Dexter asked flatly.

Cole's eyes narrowed slightly. "The ones they pulled out of the school…?" He said slowly. "The bodies were removed through the service entrance."

"There were no bodies in the school."

"How? I swear the bags were, or at least looked, filled."

"They were opened and placed onto the stretchers to make the removal easier, but there were no bodies to be removed. The entire office was empty. The only thing there, was blood. And a lot of it," he said.

"Impossible…the body bags looked filled," Cole muttered.

I yawned. "Well, there were no bodies. Along with any record of the principal signing in that day."

"Didn't you see anyone?"

"The secretaries and Ms. Cameron. Those are the only ones I saw."

"And you didn't check the sign-in sheets?"

"No, Cole, I didn't. I hadn't assumed this was going to take place." I leaned on the arm of the couch and rest my chin in my hand. I looked at Abel. "Aside from Nikolai, are there any other Brothers?"

"In the school? I'm not sure," he said, scratching his chin. "You'll have to ask him."

"I will. Another thing-Dexter, are you familiar with an Officer Parks?"

"I don't know him personally, but I've seen him a few times. Why?"

"When my class was escorted out of the building, Officer Parks and a…Detective Batista, were with us. Something seemed off about him."

"Do you think he could have anything to do with this?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just saying something wasn't quite right about the man. Was he at the school before you had arrived?"

Dexter shrugged. "Might have been. If I'm not mistaken, he does security every now and then for the schools in the area. Although, I'm not positive if he was at the school beforehand."

"And you know this how?" Cole asked.

"I work with cops. I hear them talk."

The room became silence once more. This time, without the threat of being caught. We all sat there, searching for the right words to say, unsure of what to say next. Cole sat down across from me on top of the coffee table. Abel and Dexter followed suit, taking a seat on the couch next to me. Dexter awkwardly squished in between Abel and I. I moved over, allowing him room to breathe. He smiled briefly, offering his thanks.

Another painfully silent moment passed before Cole spoke up. "So, I'm going to assume he knows why he's here?"

Abel nodded slowly. "He does. Alexi and I explained everything to him before. Did you happen to tell him anything else?"

"Yes, actually, I did," I said, clearing my throat. "I told him that he'll have to, of course, abide by our rules. And despite that, he'll still be able to choose his own kills."

"But, he'll have to make a file for each kill, something he's not used to. We're going to need more record than the blood slides in your air conditioner," Abel smiled.

Dexter's jaw dropped slightly.

"I had to search your apartment. It was protocol," he said. "Don't act like you've never done it. Anyway, let's go upstairs. It's hot as fuck down here."

The four of us ascended the stairs, leaving the humid basement. Once in the kitchen, I rifled through the fridge, removing two bottles of water; I handed one to Dexter, and took one for myself. Dexter quickly opened the bottle, tossing the plastic cap onto the table. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drained its contents. He placed the empty bottle onto the table beside it's cap.

He looked at me. "I was only down there overnight, right?"

"Yes, overnight. But you were only out for a few hours. Why do you ask?"

"I feel like I've been down there for days. What sedative was used on me, anyway?"

"Etorphine hydrochloride," I said.

"Hmm. Same one I use," he said, pursing his lips. "How did you manage to get a hold of that?"

"We have ties. Any of us could get whatever we want, whether it be weapons, or deadly poisons." Abel answered. He pulled a bag of chips from the cabinet and held the bag out to Dexter. He shook his head. "No? Alright. You're going to have to eat sometime, though."

"He's the same way with me," I snickered, "a pushy little boy."

Dexter grinned. "I'll be fine, thanks. I ate after work yesterday."

"That was hours ago, but okay," Abel sighed. "Eh, there's food here if you want any. Now, when are you going back to work?"

"Tomorrow, most likely. Or whenever they call me in." Dexter turned to me. "Do you still need to question me anymore, or no?"

"No, I have enough information. More questions than answers, but I suppose I'll find out more over time."

"You'll just need to keep her updated on anything. New leads, anything of the sort. After all, she was the one that was supposed to kill the guidance counselor anyway."

"Yeah…supposed to," I muttered. "If anything, find out as much as you can on the faculty. As well as security."

Dexter blinked.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know…it just baffles me that you're just a kid, and already you're a killer."

"I think you come from a similar background though, don't you? Killing from a very young age," Abel noted.

He nodded.

"You'll get used to seeing it, I guess. You'll be surprised at how many people my age are trained killers. Hell, you'll be surprised at just how many people alone are a part of the Brotherhood. Even your doctor could be one of us," I chuckled.

"Do you get paid for each hit?"

"I wish," the three of us said simultaneously, laughing at the question. I continued speaking. "If we did, we'd all be rich by now. But, no, we do not get paid. This is something we were born into, trained to do. Killing is in our blood."

Dexter nodded. "I understand that."

"So, you see this is more of a passion, an obsession in some ways, rather than just a side job."

"Yes. I completely understand."

"Good. Then you will continue to kill at your normal rate. Just alert us as to when you plan to kill again, where the kill will take place…and if you need any help."

"I'm not sure when my next kill will be. But as far as my most recent one, I'm sure you know how that ended."

"The body was dismembered and disposed of. The area was cleaned, thoroughly," Abel said.

"How did you get rid of the body?"

"Tossed the body into an abandoned car near the junkyard,. Once the car is compacted, there is nothing to worry about."

"How weren't you seen? The junkyards are usually well surveilled."

"Oh, I know. But, a friend owns the junkyard, I can come and go as I please," Abel said. "He usually helps with getting rid of the bodies. He runs a clean-up crew."

"You don't clean up after yourselves?"

"We do. Every single one of us does. But, sometimes, on a high profile assignment, we don't have time to stick around and clean. We need to kill and leave. So they assist with the clean up when we need the help. And before you ask, it's all for free. We help each other out."

"I guess there are benefits to being one of you," Dexter noted.

"Yes, yes there are. You can finally be open and honest. And you have a…family, in a way, to help you."

The word 'family' seemed to strike Dexter. The man calmed down, became more secure in our presence. Although, it would indeed be a while before his walls were fully broken down.

"So, who are you, Dexter?" Abel asked, leaning over the kitchen table.

The question puzzled him. "What do you mean?"

Able rolled his eyes. "Who are you? Truly."

Dexter hesitated. "I…I'm a serial killer." He sighed heavily.

"Feel good being able to admit that to someone other than yourself? Or your kills?"

"Yeah, it does," he said. "It's like a weight is being lifted off of my shoulders."

"And knowing you won't be turned away for it?"

"Feels just as good."

"I'm glad."

Cole stretched his arms, his bones cracking loudly as he did so. "I think we could all use some downtime. Am I wrong?"

"No," I said.

"Good. TV?" He asked.

We nodded in agreement and followed Cole into the living room.

Cole stopped dead in his tracks, and turned, enraged at the site before him. He slammed his fist into the wall, shattering the thin dry wall. Chips of paint and dust sprayed out from the point of impact. Cole repeatedly hit the wall, until his hand struck a wooden beam, the wood threatening to crack under the force of his blows. He pulled his hand away, his knuckles bloodied and broken. We stared at him in awe, utterly confused by his sudden display of rage. Cole stared at the floor, his face reddening, body convulsing.

Abel stepped forward tentatively, afraid to approach his younger brother. He reached out to touch Cole's shoulder, a vain attempt to calm him, but quickly withdrew his arm.

"Cole, what's wrong?"

A rustling of the leather on the couch made clear what had angered Cole. I pushed past the two brothers into the living room and stopped. I stared at the couch, anger rising in me, much faster than the panic, which sat like a brick in the pit of my stomach.

I drew in a ragged breath and tried to contain myself, before I gave into my anger much like Cole foolishly had. I needed to maintain a level of composure before I snapped. The stress from the previous day, and now this surely would make me lose control. I breathed deeply, centering myself, my mind, before speaking.

I took a step forward, inching toward the couch. I shook my head feverishly, glaring ahead of me. "You're _fucked._"

I glared at Cole. "Tell me why this shit just keeps _fucking _adding on. Tell me why you couldn't take care of your motherfucking problem."

"I thought there was nothing to deal with. I thought it had all been taken care of," he said gruffly, his body shaking.

"Well obviously fucking not, huh?" I said, waving my hand toward the couch.

Abel leaned against the wall, silent.

Dexter hadn't moved, the situation paralyzing him with fear.

The two men left us to handle this. They have yet to move since they entered the living room after Cole and I.

"What the fuck are we going to do, now?"

"The only option is death," I said.

Dexter woke from his trance, approaching me slowly. "Death?"

"Yes," I said, looking him in the eye. "It is the only option."

"It can't be."

"You know we cannot risk anyone finding out. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. And if death will protect us, then death is the final verdict."

Dexter appeared conflicted, the choice between helping or going against us a difficult one to make. He frowned deeply. He glanced over at the couch, riddled with sadness. "I'm sorry," his apology the only words he could muster.

I smiled at him despite the anger. "You _are_ very loyal."

"Unfortunately," he mumbled, the response nearly inaudible.


	21. Detach

Chapter Twenty Three

"Yes," I said, looking him in the eye. "It is the only option."

"It can't be."

"You know we cannot risk anyone finding out. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. And if death will protect us, then death is the final verdict."

Dexter appeared conflicted, the choice between helping or going against us a difficult one to make. He frowned deeply. He glanced over at the couch, riddled with sadness. "I'm sorry," his apology the only words he could muster.

I smiled at him despite the anger. "You _are_ very loyal."

"Unfortunately," he mumbled, the response nearly inaudible.

I approached the couch, the rustling of the leather more frantic. "There's no way out," I said darkly.

Behind me, Dexter continuously whispered "I'm sorry." even though his apology meant nothing. He chose his side. There is no apologizing now.

A heavy hand dropped down onto my shoulder, startling me. I turned abruptly and caught this person by the neck, my left hand squeezing as tightly as possible. "Abel?"

He wrenched my hand away, violently tearing it off of his now bruised neck. "You can't do this."

"And why can't I?"

"You know what the rules are, Alexi," he said. "You cannot kill those we are sworn to protect."

"Yes, I know that. But I'm sure you are aware of the fact that _secrecy_ matters more to us than anything, and if what we must do to preserve it is kill, then so be it."

Abel stared at me, wide eyed. "I cannot believe you are going against everything we stand for. This can be dealt with another way, Lex."

"And what was is that?" Cole asked, turning toward his brother.

"We can…try to work something out…"

"Oh, look, the almighty Abel doesn't know what to do. Even you are conflicted. Deep down in your heart, you know that protecting the Brotherhood is worth risking the death of an innocent. Since when are you to say no to a kill? A man who craves blood, like an addict craves his next fix. You said it yourself, Abel. You need blood."

Abel clenched his jaw, his narrowed eyes flitting around the room anxiously. "I know what I need…what I crave. But you cannot do this, it simply isn't right."

"Right or wrong doesn't matter now."

"You know what must be done," I said to Abel. "This one must die."

Abel glanced over at the couch, then back at me. "Secrecy is our main priority, so is protecting the innocent people. So, if you can imagine….I don't know what to do."

"I know, I realized that," I said.

"So why not be considerate of that fact? Why not discuss this? Why do you have to be so cold and uncaring? You know what our job is, and what you're suggesting, or rather willing and ready to do, goes against _everything_ we stand for. Everything the Brotherhood itself was founded on."

I grimaced. "I'm not being cold, I'm trying to protect us. What other option do we have, Abel?"

"You are. Maybe you just don't realize it. But we can try and fix this while we still have time. We don't have to resort to murder," he said.

"It's not murder," I said, raising my voice.

"Then what is it?"

"It's protecting us, all of us. If anything gets out because of this nuisance, we could all be in danger. Dexter included," I added, looking over at him. "We don't have much of a choice, Abel. We can't risk anything, not now."

Abel stared at Dexter. He held his breath for a moment. "Dexter…are you…okay with this?"

He shrugged.

"I need an answer, Dex."

"I can't tell you if I am or not…I don't know what to say," he frowned.

"You're obviously troubled by this," I said.

"How couldn't I be?"

"You're right," Abel said. "But I suppose it doesn't matter."

"How?"

"You follow what _we_ do. Technically, you're not a Brother yet. Granted we value your opinion greatly, you don't have much say in the matter."

Abel nodded. "If we decide to kill, we're going through with it. I still think it's wrong, but…"

"But what?" I asked.

"You were right…I guess. Secrecy is our top priority. We can't risk anything."

I nodded solemnly. I looked over at Dexter, his once unemotional self riddled with worry and sadness. He shook slightly, panic overwhelming the man. This may be the first time he has felt these emotions. It must be scaring him to death, to feel such things. And all at once, too.

I frowned at him, suddenly feeling remorse for my hasty reaction, for neglecting to think things out. Normally, I would have taken the time to evaluate what had happened, but for some reason, I reacted on instinct. My first reaction was to kill, and that bothers me immensely. I have the ability to reason, and yet instantly, I decided on murder.

What kind of person am I? I should have taken a step back…assessed the problem. I suppose the stress of the past few days has gotten to me.

I shook my head, and stepped backward until the back of my knees hit the coffee table. I collapse onto the small structure, dropping down heavily onto it. I placed my head in my hands and shut my eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. The men continued to talk around me, discussing what needs to be done. I drowned them out, the only sound that I could hear, was that of my erratic heartbeat and the ragged breaths I drew in every now and then.

I sat there hunched over for a good while, cutting everything out, detaching myself from everything around me.

Whenever I had been overwhelmed with stress, I tended to shut everything out. I ignored everything and everyone around me, numbing my emotions. I became increasingly objective, emotionally invested in nothing. At all. And although I rarely spoke, my mind was never silent. My thoughts raced, my mind a raging storm. Constantly those very thoughts plagued me, ranging from a simple musing, to something that disturbed even myself.

I took a final breath, and lifted my head, staring at the couch before me. My eyes softened, no longer angry and cold as they had been not long ago. "I'm sorry. I reacted on instinct, I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you. It was foolish. Surely you understand how such trying situations can strain your patience, making you act in irrational ways."

The figure before me nodded, rattled by what had occurred within the past ten minutes or so.

"I'm glad you understand," I smiled. "Now, you have heard many things within the past half hour, haven't you?"

Again, the figure nodded, whimpering quietly.

Still smiling, I said, "How much do you value your life?"

No response.

"Either you wish to die, or you're still too scared to answer. Either way, I need a response from you."

"A lot…I don't want to die," the person said quietly, their voice quavering.

"Then if you don't want to die, you must never speak of what you have heard today. Do you understand?"

The figure shook their head rapidly.

"I cannot hear your head rattling; speak. Now."

"I understand," they said lowly.

"Good. We'll be watching you. God forbid you ever slip up, and speak of this, I'll cut your tongue right out of your mouth." I narrowed my eyes at the person before me.

Abel spoke. "Expect us to be following you from now on. You swore you would not say anything, and if you do, we'll kill you."

A lone tear ran down the figure's cheek. With a shaking hand, they wiped the tear away.

Dexter took a seat next to the figure on the couch, wrapping a comforting arm around the figure's waist. "If you speak of any of this, they'll be in grave danger. And so will I. because I'm a part of them now, Deb."

Debra turned to look at her older brother, disbelief written across her face. "Please tell me this is all a joke, Dexter…a sick, sick joke…"

A grim expression covered his face. "I'm not kidding….none of us are. We're all….killers." Admitting his true self to his sister looked painful, for he cringed while speaking, waiting for her reaction.

Debra slinked away from her brother, pressing herself into the arm of the couch, trying to get as far away from her murderous brother as possible. She looked at him, disgusted at what she saw. And despite the momentary hatred she felt for him, she broke down and cried, allowing Dexter to hold her.

She shrank in his arms, sobbing violently. She looked terrified, and utterly confused as to what was going on around her. "I don't believe you…how could you kill? How are you…like them?" She turned toward the three of us, looking at each of us skeptically. "Are you all even killers?"

Cole, a familiar, and once friendly face, stepped forward. "All of us are, Debra. The three of us, including your brother," he said, looking at Dexter.

"He's right. Your brother has been killing from an early age, his homicidal tendencies stemming from his witnessing of his mother's brutal death. His, well, _your_ father trained him. Gave him a code to follow; he isn't a normal killer, Debra. He doesn't kill at random. He kills those who deserve to die, the scum of the earth."

Once again, she tore herself out of Dexter's hold, but this time stood up, stumbling slightly on shaky legs. "I…I really don't know what to say about all of this. I…I can't believe this, Dex."

Dexter stood up, eye level with his sister now. "You can trust me. You can trust all of us," he looked at us. "They're good people."

"They're psychos, fucking killers, Dexter!"

"Excuse me, but we do not like being called _psycho killers_, you wretch," I said, my nose wrinkling in annoyance. "We're a part of….never mind, I'm not going through all of that again, ask your brother about our origins." I sighed.

"What I'm trying to say is, is that your brother is right. You can trust every single one of us. Since you're related to Dexter, we'll protect you, just as we will look over him. We could also help you with this case you're working on," I added.

She breathed deeply, raising an eyebrow at the last thing I had said. "How will you protect me? And help with the case."

"We're all trained killers," Cole said, answering Deb. "We can protect you. We will watch over you constantly, whenever you're working alone, or even at home. We'll be there to make sure you're safe."

"And as far as the case goes," I said, "I know a lot more about the victims of the murders than anyone in Metro. I can give you some insight into the case, in turn, you can help me find out who killed her…before I got to."

"Why were you going to kill her?" She said incredulously.

"I have a list of reasons. But before I can delve into them, I need to know that you trust me. I'm going to be working with your brother a lot, now. And since you know who I am and what I do, you'll be involved in this, too."

She shook her head. "I'm still not sure about all this…"

"You have no choice, whether you can be _sure_ or not. It's either you are, or we kill you."

She gasped slightly.

"Oh, don't act all horrified now, we've been making death threats since we saw you lounging on the couch. Why were you here anyway?"

"I forgot my phone. So I came back inside to get it," she said. "And when I came back in, I felt sick, nauseas. So I sat down. I wound up passing out for a few minutes….and then I woke up. And heard all of you."

"Why were you sick?" Dexter asked.

"I don't know. I just felt light headed all of a sudden, felt like I was going to throw up."

"Hmm, well, at least you weren't intentionally being nosy," I joked.

A faint smile crossed her lips. "No, not intentionally. Sorry I listened in…really sorry I listened in. Some things shouldn't be heard," she muttered.

"You're right about that. But some good things came out of this, I suppose," I said.

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well, there's no more secrets. Plus, you have us to watch over you, and you have help with your case. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind that."

"No, I wouldn't, I guess…"

"Well, there. Is everyone alright now?" I asked, looking around. "For the most part, anyway."

Everyone nodded.

"Alright…well, Deb, I guess you should go. Dexter, too. You should both show your faces back at work." I sighed. "Let us handle everything for now, let us know when you have any new leads. And Deb?"

"Yeah?" She asked tentatively.

"I apologize for all of this. It was unneeded. But, I have something for you, a suggestion, that could help with the case."

"What?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"The principal, to my knowledge, hadn't signed in on the day of the murders. And yet, through his computer, a mass email was sent, alerting the staff of the atrocities that had occurred. _He _had even made one or two announcements during the period in which we were locked down. As a matter of fact, there was no record any of the office staff had signed in. Check their homes, see if they were there."

Debra nodded. "I hadn't known that. I'll look into it. Thanks…?"

"I assume you're asking for my name? It's Alexi."

"How are we supposed to keep in touch?" Dexter asked.

"I could give you my number, I suppose."

"Alright," he said.

I found a napkin on the coffee table, and with one of the pens Abel had handed me before, I scrawled my number out onto the paper. "Just call me if you have any leads, or if you want to meet and discuss anything."

Dexter nodded. "Alright, if me and Deb find anything out, we'll contact you."

"Okay. Now get to work, this way no one becomes suspicious. Remember, you don't say anything," I reminded them, looking at the siblings.

They both nodded, promising their silence.

Abel walked toward them, holding a large plastic bag out to Dexter. "Your phone, all of your tools, are in here."

"Thank you."

"Now go," Abel said. "Get back to your jobs. And Dexter, your car is in the garage, along with your keys. The door is open."

"Oh, alright. Thank you for bringing it back." He smiled briefly.

"No problem."

They left the house, shutting the door behind them for the final time today. Debra's car started and peeled out of the driveway almost instantly, rushing to get away from this house. Dexter soon followed, his departure less hasty than his sister's.

I looked at the two brothers. "I'm going to kill myself one of these days."


	22. Stress

They left the house, shutting the door behind them for the final time today. Debra's car started and peeled out of the driveway almost instantly, rushing to get away from this house. Dexter soon followed, his departure less hasty than his sister's.

I looked at the two brothers. "I'm going to kill myself one of these days."

"Try not to." Cole said wearily. "What are we going to do about Deb?"

I sighed, leaning back against the door. "I have no clue to be honest. Do you think she'll tell? Or even believe what she heard today?"

Abel shrugged. "She probably thinks we're all lunatics."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Cole said. "I mean, would you believe there's a Brotherhood of killers out there? No. The idea is hard to comprehend, much less truly believe when you hear it. How many kills have we had, that called _us _crazy?"

I laughed. "Quite a few. Deb's probably just a little shaken up, she doesn't seem to fully believe what we have said. So, hopefully, we have nothing to worry about."

"Hopefully being the keyword." Cole added.

"Of course." I said. "I hope she comes to me with information on the case, though. I still need to settle this."

"I think you need rest more than anything right now, Lex. You won't be able to figure anything out with how frazzled you are." Abel said.

"True, but you're no better. You looked like a crackhead before."

His nose wrinkled. "Shut up. You have any idea how stressed I've been? I was up all night trying to make sure that bastard didn't escape."

"Okay, okay. Calm down; I was just making a joke." I sighed. "I'm exhausted. Mentally, I mean."

"What about physically?"

"I think all of us are." Cole sat on the couch. "Sorry about the wall, Abe."

He waved Cole off. "Don't worry about it. We have bigger things to be concerned about." He turned to me. "It's about twelve now. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"Why are you so concerned about me, Abe? I'll be fine."

"Because I care, kid. I don't want you stressing yourself over this. You'll get this shit figured out, but not if you're stressed. You need a clear mind."

"I suppose you're right. But, it's not like I haven't been this stressed before." I frowned. "I can handle myself. I don't need anyone to watch over me."

"Maybe not." He sighed. "But you do need help. Advice. And I'm trying to give you it; go sleep."

"Fine." I pouted.

I left the Hyde brothers to talk amongst themselves, and entered Abel's bedroom much like I had the day before. His bed was still unmade, the imprints of our heads in the oversized pillows. I kicked my shoes off, removed my jeans, and laid down in the bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin. Within minutes, I began dozing off. I struggled to stay awake, not because I hadn't wanted to sleep, but to show Abel I didn't need the rest. That I could go on just fine.

But he was right.

I did need the rest, more than anything. The past two days have stressed me greatly, and it's a wonder I can even relax enough to begin falling asleep. My lids grew heavy, and I closed them. I buried my head into the pillow, inhaling deeply. The smell of Abel's shampoo was strong, the scent oddly relaxing. I breathed it in, savoring the pleasant smell, and drifted off to sleep.

. . .

"Lex."

I groaned, and pulled the sheets over my head. "Go away."

"Lex, you need to get up."

I pulled the covers down slightly, peering up at Cole with bleary eyes. I blinked. "What, why?"

"Deb is back." He sounded stressed.

"So?"

"You need to come out into the living room."

"Come on. I don't need to deal with anymore shit. If she's flipping out, she can talk to you and Abel." I yawned. "Now go away."

"She has information on the case."

"Fuck." I slammed my head back down onto the pillow. "Alright, I'm coming."

"You're not moving."

"I know that. Jackass." I muttered.

I tore the blankets off of me, and stood. Cole stared at me. "Are you really going to go out there like that?"

"What?" I looked down. I had no pants on. "Ohh. Right."

He laughed, although it was strained. "Well, at least they look like shorts. Come on."

. . .

"Didn't bother to get dressed, huh?" Abel snickered.

"Nope." I looked at Deb, who was seated in the same spot she had been in hours earlier. I glanced at the window. It was dark now. "I heard you have information? That was fairly quick."

"Well," She started, eyeing my underwear, "I wouldn't peg you to be the type of girl who likes pink. Hot pink no less." She laughed awkwardly. "But I do have info for you."

I grinned. "I don't necessarily like the color, but oh well. What'd you find out?"

"I did what you said; I checked the staff members homes. None of them were there. But, then we checked the principal's home." Her expression was grim.

"And?"

"The principal was found hanging from the banister of the steps inside his house. His eyes were hanging out of his head, his throat slit, _and_ his dick was cut off."

"What the fuck." I grimaced.

"Exactly. Just who are we dealing with? Since you guys are 'professional killers' and all."

"That's just it. We have no idea yet. I thought it might've been the principal, actually. And since the entire office staff was murdered, you can't even question them on whether or not the principal was actually in the school. So it's almost a dead end." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why not question security? Visitors usually have to sign in at the security office. It's in the front of the building."

"Right after the front doors, no? The office is the first room on the left?" Cole asked.

"Yes." I said. "It would be wise to check with the security guards. There are cameras everywhere, and sign in sheets galore. They'd be able to tell you who had entered the building that day."

"The security tapes showed nothing out of the ordinary happening, though." Deb said. "Is it possible they could have erased content off of the recordings?"

"Anything is possible. I would assume if you were to really examine the tapes, you'd need someone to check their computers as well. For any deleted content that may have eluded you."

"I hadn't thought of that. Thanks. I'll talk to Batista about it." She smiled wryly.

"Another thing. That officer… Parker I believe his name was? Look into him as well. Dexter mentioned to me earlier that he sometimes acts as an extra security guard at the school."

"Why though? If you don't mind me asking."

"Something just seems off about the man. I'm not sure, it just seems like he knows something."

"I'll look into it." She said. "Well, it's late. I'd better get home. I'll let you know if I hear anything else, alright? Me and Dex will keep you updated on the case."

"Thank you. Get home safely, now." I smiled tiredly.

"I will. Goodnight, guys." She waved, and left the house.

I looked at the two of them. "I'm done for now. I'm going back to sleep."

"Alright, kid. Go rest."

"Damn right I will." I called out as I walked down the hall.

Abel laughed. "Good."

I collapsed onto the bed again, and shut my eyes.

. . .

"Uh, Lex?" Abel's voice boomed.

I jumped, startled out of my sleep. "What the fuck is it now?"

"Just…just come here."


	23. Intuitive

"Uh, Lex?" Abel's voice boomed.

I jumped, startled out of my sleep. "What the fuck is it now?"

"Just…just come here."

"Ugh.." I groaned, and once again tore the sheets off of my body. I stumbled off of the bed, shielding my eyes from the bright Miami sun that lit the room. I jumped, startled again, this time by Cole. He stood outside the room. I hissed, annoyed at how my morning had begun.

"Couldn't give me a fucking warning?" I growled.

He frowned. "Sorry. Come with me."

He placed an arm around my shoulder. I tensed at the contact. Five minutes I have been awake, and already I'm infuriated. Nothing seems to be getting better. Maybe I am over reacting, but I have a damn good reason to. Curiosity soon outweighed my anger, and my chest tightened with anxiety as I approached Abel, wondering why he had woken me up, and why he looked so panicked.

He never does.

He smiled grimly at me. "Morning, kid. There's people here to see you."

Abel stepped out of the way, leaning back against the newly spackled wall, to reveal two detectives seated on the leather couch. Deb, and the detective that had escorted my classroom out of the school following the murders. Both of them stood up to greet me, Debra regarding me with a knowing glance, and introduced her colleague and herself, acting as if she had never met me.

"You must be Alexi." Batista said. He smiled.

"Yes, that's me."

"We're sorry to wake you so early, but with the call we received, we needed to come down here right away." He shifted. "Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?"

"Not at all, sir." I gave a small smile. "Would you mind if I put some clothes on and brushed my teeth first?"

He chuckled. "Sure, go ahead."

"I'll be back in a minute."

I rushed out of the living room, my heart racing, as well as my mind. I darted into Abel's bedroom, pulled my jeans on, then crossed the hall, and went into the bathroom. I turned the sink on and splashed water on my face, the cold waking me up. I quickly brushed my teeth with the brush Abel had bought for me, knowing I'd be spending more time here, than at my own house.

. . .

I sat down on the chair across from the two detectives. I smiled pleasantly, which proved to be easier than I had expected. Batista leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I mimicked his actions, a playful grin forming. He laughed quietly.

"So, you had questions to ask me, detective?"

"Yes, yes I did."

"Well. Ask away."

He nodded. "Ms. Cameron was your guidance counselor, right?"

My eyes widened slightly. "Yes, she was. Can I ask why _I'm _being questioned about her?"

Deb chimed in. "We're just curious as to whether something may have seemed off about her. You know, before she was killed and all."

"Ah. Alright."

"Like she just said, did anything seem…off about her?"

I shrugged, glancing around the room, pretending to recall my meeting with her. "She did kinda seem panicky. I figured she was just one of those anxiety-ridden people, you know? Too many of them these days." I yawned. "But, she looked like something was wrong; glancing around constantly, just really paranoid. Tense. Like she was afraid of something, or waiting for something."

"Why do you say that?" Deb asked.

Batista spoke up. "And how were you able to pick up on all that?"

"I'm a very observant person. I pick up on things like that. Intuitive, I guess you could say." I shrugged. "And to answer _your_ question," I looked at Deb, "you know how someone gets all jumpy when they're expecting something?"

"Mhm." She nodded.

"She was acting like that. She seemed paranoid, like I said. She kept checking around constantly. She was distracted."

"Did she say anything to you that was out of the ordinary?"

"How so?"

Deb shrugged. "I don't know…like she was scared, or felt like something was going to happen?"

"No, nothing like that. I had told her to calm down at one point, though. She was rambling…out of breath. When she left the office to pick up my schedule, she hesitated, like she didn't want to leave the confines of that small room. She came back seeming terrified."

"Why?" Batista asked.

"Beats me. She shoved the schedule in my face and told me to have a nice day. I wished the same to her and left."

The two detectives fell silent, scribbling what they had learned on their notepads. "Is there anything else you noticed?"

"Yes, actually."

"And what is that?"

"The whole school is filled with security cameras, I noticed. At every corner there's one. But from the front entrance to the office, as well as inside the office, there's no cameras. And barely any security roaming the halls. In a big building like that, you'd think there'd be twice as much security, right?"

Batista narrowed his eyes. "How'd you notice that?"

"Like I said-I'm observant. I kinda felt something when I arrived at the school, something bad. I was on edge all morning, so of course I was going to check around. And I noticed that. That main hallway is where the most security, the most surveillance, should be. But the officer's at the front desk didn't even make me sign in."

"Your point being, Alexi?"

"I'm not sure. Just something tells me you should look into the security officers." I cracked my knuckles. "Now, why did you come here in the first place?"

Deb and Batista stared at each other, silently deciding whether or not to reveal their reasons for coming here. Batista nodded. "We received a call this morning."

"And?"

"Your guidance counselor's head was found impaled on the fence post in your front yard."

"_What!_" My face paled.


	24. Pure Coincidence

Deb and Batista stared at each other, silently deciding whether or not to reveal their reasons for coming here. Batista nodded. "We received a call this morning."

"And?"

"Your guidance counselor's head was found impaled on the fence post in your front yard."

"_What!_" My face paled.

Batista frowned, leaned back in his seat. The leather groaned under his weight. "I'm sorry…I know it must be disturbing to hear this."

"No shit it's disturbing!" I brushed my hair out of my face. "I'm sorry for cursing, sir. This is just…a little unsettling. Why would someone do this? Why my house?"

"That's just what we're trying to figure out; why is her head on your property?" He leaned forward again. "You weren't connected with her in any way, were you?"

I glanced at Deb. "Other than the fact she was my guidance counselor, no."

"Then why would the killer place her head on your property? You were the last one to see her alive, too."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you suggesting I had a part in her death? Detective, I just moved here. I don't know anyone aside from Cole and Abel here, and my English teacher."

"And what is your English teacher's name?" Deb asked.

"Nikolai Ashby. I've known him for years. He is a friend of my aunt's. He drove me home yesterday, remember?"

"Yes, that's right. Would you mind giving your aunt's name?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Sure…her name is Nikki Volkov."

"Russian, huh?" Deb said. "Is she from there?"

"Is she an immigrant? No. Her parents were." I lied. No one knows anything about Nikki's past.

As far as I'm concerned, she has no past.

"Ah. Well, what made you move down to Miami?" Batista smiled.

"Got sick of living in Jersey. Wanted change."

"So you move here? What a dangerous place to live." Deb remarked.

"Well, you live here, too, so. And why is it such a dangerous place?"

"High crime rate, low solve rate." Batista grumbled.

"Seems like you guys need to up your game, huh?' I joked. "But, it's definitely more pleasant down here. I like being close to the beach. Especially the shipyards. I love watching the boats come in."

"How come?"

"Moved around a lot as a kid. One of the places I lived in the longest, was a major port city. Grew up around boats. My father liked to fish."

"Must have been fun as a child."

"Oh, it was." I sighed deeply. "This is still troubling me, detective. I won't lie to you; Mr. Ashby told me what happened, about the murders. He couldn't not tell me. We're always honest to each other. But, aside from that…why was her head on my property? Didn't you guys take the bodies away? And how was the principal even able to send out that email? Or address us all?"

"There were no bodies in the school…and I'm not sure, quite honestly. The principal was found dead in his home." He grimaced.

I gasped. "Oh my god. Are you serious? When?"

"Yes. And we found him sometime yesterday, late in the afternoon."

I shook my head, frowning at the principal's death. "I know I keep asking questions, but since I'm involved in this all now…I guess I kinda wanna know what's going on…is that understandable?" Deb nodded her head. "Alright…well, how did he die?"

"He was hanging from the staircase. And he'd been there a while, too." Batista seemed frustrated.

"So…how did this email and speech happen? Kids in my class recognized to be the man's voice…his name is Mr. Fournier, right?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Could the speech have been prerecorded? As far as the email…he could have been hacked."

"True." Batista said. "You seem to want to be involved in the case."

"I wouldn't say I truly want to be involved, but I suppose I am now. Plus, nothing makes sense to me." I groaned. "I shoulda stayed home the other day."

Deb laughed. "I guess you should've, kid. Sorry you have to deal with this, now."

"Eh, it's fine. Is this whole Vlad the Impaler-act being taken seriously, or is the killer just looking to stir everyone up?"

"Taken seriously how?"

"Is this this person's way of saying I'm next? Or is he just wreaking a little havoc."

"I would assume they're just trying to stir things up. You have no real connection to the victim, that we know of, so I don't think you're in any real danger, Alexi."

"I would hope not."

The room became silent once more, each of us mulling over what had occurred. First the murders, which had no bodies, and now my kill's head is impaled on the fence post. What a glorious sight that must have been to the neighbors this morning…I sighed. Part of me wants to see the head, the iron post shoved up her head. She's dead now, no longer a threat to anyone…but that still doesn't satisfy me. Why would anyone go after her? Who else knows about her? Was this a random murder, or did she die for the same reasons I wanted her dead?

Questions raced through my mind, each of them leading only to more questions. I glanced back and forth between the two tired looking detectives, wishing I could be honest with them. Tell them I might have a reason for why she was murdered. But I can't. I have to stay quiet. I frowned.

"Is something wrong?" Batista asked. Though tired, he appeared concerned.

I smiled wearily. "It's just unsettling, you know?" I shrugged. "You think someone wanted her dead? Like she did something to piss someone off enough?"

"We haven't yet looked into that." Deb answered. "But we will."

"I suppose you should. Not everyone is just a victim."

"What do you mean by that?"

"No one's truly innocent. We've all got secrets to hide, some darker than others. Maybe she had a few skeletons in her closet. Literally."

"Do you think she could have hurt someone? Or-"

"Killed someone? Anything's possible. She sure seemed unstable enough."

Batista pursed his lips. "You've sure got a lot of ideas, kiddo. I wish you were one of us. You could help a lot with the case."

"Well, no one says I couldn't. Off the record, anyway. I'm a thinker. I like to look at all aspects of things, all possibilities."

"And that could prove to be very helpful."

"Yes, it can be. I'm always here if you need help brainstorming, detective." I smiled. "I may not be a cop, but that doesn't mean I'm not useful."

"I'll keep that in mind, Alexi." He rose from his seat. "Thank you for the help. We'll let you know if anything changes, if we feel you need to be protected."

I stood. "Alright then."

The two detectives shook my hand. Deb smiled. "Everything should be cleared up now. We'll be going. We'll keep in touch, okay?"

"Okay."

They left the house. The three of us stood in the living room, silent, as still as statues, until we could hear their cars drive away, until nothing could be heard from outside. I turned to the both of them. They wore pained expressions on their faces, both knowing that this would stress me further.

"This fucker's playing games with me, now." I seethed. "And I don't like playing games."

. . .

"Relax. We might be getting closer now to figuring out who did this." Cole said.

"Who's going to target her, and me, the one who was supposed to kill her?" I groaned. "The head couldn't just have been randomly placed where _I _was staying. They have to know about me."

"It could purely be coincidence."

"Or it could purely be a provocation. He wants me to do something, wants me to know he's watching me."

"What makes you think it was a guy?" Abel asked. "Could be a chick. You never know."

"I'm open to any possibility. But, why am I being targeted?"

"God only knows why, Lex."

"Well, god needs to tell me why, before I fucking kill him, too."


	25. Fuck Coincidence

"It could purely be coincidence."

"Or it could purely be a provocation. He wants me to do something, wants me to know he's watching me."

"What makes you think it was a guy?" Abel asked. "Could be a chick. You never know."

"I'm open to any possibility. But, why am I being targeted?"

"God only knows why, Lex."

"Well, god needs to tell me why, before I fucking kill him, too."

"Hey, easy on the death threats on the Lord; remember, we used to _work _for him at one point." Abel said, grabbing my shoulders. "

"Right, right. Well, not anymore, so fuck that bastard." I dropped onto the couch. "Agh! I hate this shit, I really do, Abe."

"I know." He sulked. "Things will get easier as time passes. We'll figure this out, kiddo. It's gonna be alright."

I shot up. "Easier? God dammit, this bastard, whoever the hell he is, knows where I live. Or at least where I'll be residing. He's ballsy. Placing Cameron's head on the fence post? This person most likely knows who I really am, what I do for a living-kill. They could implicate us all. We could be put to death; Dexter could die. Deb could go to prison as well, for helping us."

Abel and Cole stared at me.

"Do you realize the gravity of this situation? I'm not stressed because someone stole my kill. I could care less. It's less work for me. What's really wracking my nerves, is that this ghost, whoever it may be, not only killed innocents, and put the lives of hundreds of students in danger, but knows who I am. And if they have any knowledge of what I do, we're all going to hell." I paused, my eyes widening at a sudden realization. "God only knows how long this person has been tracking me…they could have photo evidence of my kills….shit, Abe, they could have pictures of us down at the shipyard!"

I crossed my arms over my head, drawing in deep, ragged breaths, trying to calm myself down. Panicking would do nothing to better the situation. It would only cloud my mind more. I have never been this unnerved in any of my years of killing, not even when I was given my very first assignments. I always remained calm. Levelheaded.

Then again, never before has my semblance been threatened to be torn away.

I never had a thing to worry about.

And oh god, how I long for those times.

I shut my eyes tightly, and rolled over, pressing my face into the couch cushion. I groaned into the leather, my voice muffled. I wish I had never been assigned this hit. Although, I suppose if I have been tracked, whether this case was assigned to me or another very capable assassin, would not matter one single bit. I could have been given a task in Nigeria and the same thing could have happened. To God, I pray that I am not being tracked like a fugitive.

My heart sank.

I'm not being tracked by the gov-

Oh, Lord, Alexi; the government? No one knows you fucking exist. To everyone, you're just a normal teen…with a little extra baggage than most. This has to be another Brother. Otherwise, why would _I _be targeted specifically? I sighed and rolled over again, this time facing the two brothers.

Cole and Abel stood in the same spots, staring at me, their eyes filled with worry. I smiled sadly, burying my head somehow deeper into the cushion. I suppose I was trying to sink into the couch, to disappear from everyone. From everything. I wish this situation would end.

Even though it has only been two days, the stress is reaching an insurmountable level.

I can handle stress, believe me.

But if things keep happening the way they have been the past few days…the stress is really gonna kill me.

And even a trained killer has a breaking point, believe it or not.

. . .

Abel sat down on the couch. He lifted my legs and placed them over his own. He ran a tired hand over my calf, and through this simple touch, I could feel his own stress, his own worries and pain. I sat up and grabbed his hand. He looked at me.

"What is it, kid?"

I shrugged, tracing my fingers over the calluses on his palm.

"Come on. Gotta be something." He smiled. "You're not the type to hold hands."

"Or make any sort of affectionate gesture…unless prompted to do so." Cole laughed.

"So there's gotta be something wrong. Or on your mind at least."

"There's too much on my mind." I muttered. "Far too much."

Abel made a _tsk_ sound. "Ah, you'll be fine, Lex. What're you thinking about?"

I leaned against the cushion. "Being tracked…revealed to the police as a killer, as a part in Cameron's death. Reaching my breaking point…" That last part I mumbled.

"You're not going to reach your breaking point."

I frowned. I still held his hand.

He squeezed my hand gently. "Stress is really killin' you, huh?"

"I wouldn't say it's killing me, but if things keep going this way it will. It's just getting to me. There's too much to think about. Too much to do."

"Well, I hope you know we'll be here to help." Cole said. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "You're always welcome to stay, whenever you like."

I smiled. "Thanks guys. But…I think I better get home to Nikki. I've got more to tell her."

. . .

The three of us jumped. Someone was banging on the front door.

"Jesus Christ, if they hit any harder, they're gonna break through the damn door." Abel muttered. "I'm coming! Relax." Abel opened the door. "Nikolai?"

"And Nikki." Her voice, though monotone, still boomed, as of she had been speaking into a microphone. Her voice was not one to be ignored, and rarely ever was.

_Speak of the devil_, I thought. I shot Cole a look.

He shrugged.

"Why hello, Alexi." Nikolai smiled warmly. "I trust you have everything under control?"

"For the most part." I sighed.

"Oh?" The two sat down across from me. "Why is that?"

I sat up straight. "Cameron's head wound up impaled on the fencepost this morning. I'm assuming sometime during the night while we were sleeping, the head was placed there. Whoever did it, holds the bodies of the counselor and the secretaries. The principal was found dead in his home, and had been there for quite some time."

Nikolai's eyes widened. "How? He talked over the intercom."

I nodded. "It was most likely prerecorded. And the email? His account was hacked."

"How can you be sure?"

"This killer must be organized. He knew what he, or she, was going to do. Probably kidnapped Fournier, had him read the speech, and then stole his account information and typed up the email. Then killed him once he was done with him."

Nikki crossed her legs. "And how have you learned all of this?"

"I have ties with Miami Metro. I am working with Dexter Morgan, as well as his sister Debra Morgan."

"The sister I understand, had nothing to do with the case previous to your interrogation? Afterward she was fully involved."

"Yes, that is correct. While the interrogation was taking place, unbeknownst to us all, Debra had reentered the house. She heard all of what we had spoken about."

"Her reaction being?"

"She was upset, mostly in disbelief, not wanting to believe her beloved brother is indeed a serial killer. She swore to maintain secrecy, so long as we provided protection for her while working on the case, as well as help with said case." I cracked my neck. "I offered help on the case; we know more about the victim than her whole department does. Both the brother and sister could be valuable assets."

"And after this is finished?"

"They're disposable. At least the sister is. Dexter has been Saved."

"So I have been told." Nikki said, sneaking a glance at Abel. He waved.

I looked at Cole. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He looked away.

"Your face paled when I spoke of disposing Debra."

"There's no reason for her to die." He said.

"I suppose not. But for the time being, she is only of use to me until this case has been solved. Her fate afterward…only time will tell. Maybe she will prove to be of some use."

"Just…don't kill her. Think of how Dexter would feel." He frowned. "I know I shouldn't think like this, but she could help us quite a bit. We could help her, too."

Abel scoffed. "Just before, you were ready to kill her with your bare hands."

"You know I have a temper."

"Even so. Don't be a hypocrite."

"Shut up, Abel."

Abel stuck his tongue out at Cole. I snickered.

"Children." Nikolai said, his tone stern.

Nikki turned to me. "Anything else you have for me?"

"I spoke to Debra as well as another detective, Batista. I suggested they look into the heads of security, seeing as the whole front area of the school is completely devoid of cameras. And security itself is slack. Batista saw me as helpful, so hopefully he'll come to me with more information."

"That's definitely something to look into. Good observations, Alexi. Is there anything else?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"It isn't possible that I might be being tracked by another member of the Brotherhood, is it?"

Nikki set both of her legs down, her formality faltering slightly. I raised an eyebrow. How unlike her. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Well. Why would the head of my kill appear on the fencepost in front of the house I am residing in? And why would she have been killed upon the day I arrive?"

"It…it could be coincidence."

"Bullshit." I glared. "Don't fuck with me. This isn't coincidence. There's no psycho killer running around; this is a professional. And they're playing games. Am I being tracked?"

"Alexi, that is not a question I can answer at this moment. I need to delve further into the matter before I can give you a straight answer."

"I fucking knew it." I threw my hands up. "I'm being fucking tracked. By who?"

"Alexi-"

"_By who?_" I growled.

"I cannot answer you."

"Well fuck you, then. You're of no use to me." I said angrily.

"I am your Guide, Alexi! You will listen to me, and stop speaking to me-"

"Exactly. You are my Guide, not my God. I will not listen to you. And I will speak to you in whatever way I please until you can answer me. Until then, you are nothing." I said flatly.

A tense silence fell over the room as I became locked in stare down with my Guide, Nikki. Her nostrils flared like a bull's, her anger rising. I had disobeyed my Guide, a punishable offense within the Brotherhood. You are never to disobey them.

I could care less at this point, to be honest.

I have much bigger things to worry about than breaking a small rule.


	26. A Moment I Longed For

A tense silence fell over the room as I became locked in stare down with my Guide, Nikki. Her nostrils flared like a bull's, her anger rising. I had disobeyed my Guide, a punishable offense within the Brotherhood. You are never to disobey them.

I could care less at this point, to be honest.

I have much bigger things to worry about than breaking a small rule.

"It would be in your best interest, Alexi, to apologize to me." She said. She glared at me.

"And it would be in yours, to tell me who is tracking me."

"Alexi, I couldn't even tell you if you are in fact being tracked, or by whom, for that matter. We need time."

"We don't _have _time."

My head began to pound. I stared at the floor, massaging my temples, ignoring everyone in the room.

"Alexi."

I didn't answer. I continued staring at the floor.

"Alexi."

No answer.

Nikki sighed in annoyance. The began speaking, the four of them, realizing that I was no longer involved in this conversation.

Much like when Deb had been here, I shut down. Cut everyone out. I needed to think, on my own, without everyone distracting me with their trivial input.

I sunk into the couch, and folded my arms over my stomach. I followed Abel with my eyes. He walked over and plopped on the couch beside me, and pulled me toward him. I leaned over and rest my head on his thigh. Their talking ceased for a moment when I did this, and I was tempted to ask why they became quiet, but I refrained. I stayed quiet. More and more, their talking reduced to an incessant buzzing in the back of my mind, their words no longer audible. I began thinking about the case, all that had happened over the past few days. It was quite eventful to say the least.

The murders…

The head….

The Morgan siblings…

The Morgan's.

Dexter had yet to contact us. With the counselor's head and the principal's body, he must have a lot to work on. He promised he would contact us. And so far, Deb has done a better job than her brother. I suppose the threat on her life had something to do with that…or she wants our help as well. Abel's muscles stopped tensing; he's not talking anymore. I peeked up at him.

"Abe?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"What time is it?"

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Uh, it's one-thirty. Why?"

"Just wondering. I feel like I've been up for days."

"It's only been a couple hours since you woke up."

"I know…just feels like a long time."

"I hear you. You wanna go back in the bedroom?"

"I'd love to. But, am I still needed here?"

He glanced around the room. "Nah. I'd say they've got everything under control. Come on."

. . .

I opened the door to Abel's bedroom and walked in. He followed behind me, and shut and locked the door. Upon hearing the lock click, I turned around and eyed him suspiciously. He shrugged.

"I feel like taking a nap, too."

"And the reason for the door being locked?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No disturbances." He grinned.

"I highly doubt anyone's gonna wake us up. Then again…"

"Anytime either of us has fallen asleep, something's happened."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know."

He yawned and stretched his arms, leaning from side to side to crack the bones in his back. "Well, I say we hope for the best and take a nap. Maybe we can get out later, get something to eat."

"Sounds wonderful." I smiled.

Abel dropped his arms to his side and stared at me. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Are you sleeping like that?"

I looked down. "What, in my jeans?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck no." I laughed. I undid the button and zipper, and pulled the denim off. I kicked the jeans to the side and hopped in the bed. I patted the spot next to me. "Lay down."

"I will." He pulled his socks off. "I hate sleeping with these on."

I laughed. "I thought you were gonna take your shorts off."

"Why? You want me to? Huh?" He poked at my side playfully.

"In your dreams, Hyde. You're not taking anything off around me."

"And yet, here you are, laying next to me in only your underwear."

I pouted. "Hey. Jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in."

"So true. Well, let's try to get a nap in before another body part pops up."

I stifled a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just find it funny you say that after I start taking clothes off."

He grinned. "Shut up and sleep, Lex."

. . .

I woke sometime later, Abel already awake and sitting on the edge of the bed. I hadn't even felt him move. I laid back down on the bed, burying my head into the pillow. My eyes closed once more, lids still heavy. As I settled back down, Abel leaned over, shaking my leg slightly, whispering that I needed to wake up. I groaned, and he snickered at that. Reluctantly, I sat up, bleary eyed and dazed from my nap.

"Sleep well?" He seemed happy.

"For the most part." I yawned. "You're awfully cheery."

"No, not really. I'm just…wired, I suppose."

"It's good that you are. Hey-drop me home. Let me shower and change,"

"We're still going out, right?"

"Yes, yes we are. Why?"

He shrugged. "Just making sure. Why do you need to change, anyway?"

"I've been wearing the same clothes for two days…I feel gross." I scowled.

Abel nodded. "Well, how about I go pick you up some clothes? You can shower here."

"Are you sure? Because I kinda wanted to shower now."

He pursed his lips. "You can shower now, just grab a shirt of mine in the meantime until you have everything you need. Towels are in the closet in the bathroom." He stood up and sauntered over to the large dresser on the wall opposite his bed and retrieved a t-shirt from the drawer. He tossed the grey cloth onto the bed. "Here's a shirt. Go shower, and I'll get your stuff."

Abel left then, leaving me home alone with Cole. I slowly got out of the bed and grabbed the shirt, exiting the room quietly. It is still light out, and I assume Cole went to sleep as well. I don't want to wake him.

"Hey."

I jumped slightly, gasping at the sudden greeting. I turned around. Cole's head peeked out of the door, his shoulder length brown hair a damp mess atop his head. The skin under his eyes is dark, swollen, I would assume from lack of sleep. He slumped against the door frame, smiling lazily at me, his tired eyes crinkling.

I smiled warmly at him. "What is it with you and scaring me today, huh?"

"Sorry." He grinned. "Seem to keep catching you off guard."

"Yeah, you do." I walked over to him and leaned up against the other side of the door. "I'm guessing you passed out too?" I asked, glancing up and his disheveled hair.

"How could you tell?" He chuckled.

"Maybe the fact that your hair is completely messed up, or that you seem out of it." I shrugged, smiling. "Just a guess."

"Well, you're a good guesser, Lex." He opened his arms. I raised an eyebrow at him. "C'mere."

I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, his body still warm from being underneath the covers. I found myself becoming more and more relaxed. More tempted to climb back into bed. I buried my head into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the clean scent of his skin, the smell of his soap still strong on his body.

Cole and I have always been close, more than Abel and I have ever been. Over the years we have drifted apart, distracted by the many assignments we were given. There was no time for maintaining any sort of relationship. The most we could ever muster was a halfhearted email every so often. But those emails could never suffice. I longed to be with my friend.

I sighed.

Much like his brother, Cole had always been there to support me, to comfort me when I needed it. He was caring, always had been. A quality like that was rare to find in a killer, but I admired him for it. Though not completely devoid of emotion, I find it hard to care for anything aside from my work.

I'm sure that if I could care, though, I would care for Cole.

He squeezed me, pulling me closer to him. Under the thin fabric of his shirt, I can feel the muscles of his back…as well as the many scars he had attained.

"We haven't talked in so long." He murmured. "I missed you."

We stood there hugging for another moment until I pulled away from him. I looked up at his strangely complacent face and smiled, happy that I could finally be with him. Despite the circumstances.

"What?" He asked, returning the smile.

"Just missed you, I guess." I felt my face flush as the words escaped from my lips. He pulled me toward him once more, holding me even closer now. I snaked my arms around his thin waist.

"I know," he whispered, "I missed you, too." He rest his chin on the top of my head. Unexpectedly, he leaned down, and kissed my forehead affectionately. "I'm gonna do all I can to help you, alright?"

His voice was soft, calm.

I hadn't felt this relaxed in days.

This is a moment I have longed for.

"Good, because I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"And you'll get it. Now, weren't you supposed to shower?"

"Shit, yeah." I sighed. "I'd better go do that."

. . .

I exited the hot bathroom, steam billowing out of the now opened door. I balled up my clothes and the towel I had used and crossed the hall into Abel's bedroom. I dropped my things onto the bed and followed suit, collapsing onto the mattress. Quickly, I closed my legs.

I had no underwear.

I sighed, annoyed that I had not brought anything with me. I wasn't going home, no way in hell.

Propping the pillow up behind me, I laid down, dropping my head heavily down onto the lumpy mass. I ran my fingers through my hair, messing with the wet locks, splaying them out on the pillow beneath me. I pulled the sheet up to my waist, covering my unclothed lower half.

A knock on the door.

"Yeah?"

Cole stepped in. "Feeling better?"

"A lot better."

"Good, I'm glad. Abel called; he's going to be out for a while. He said not to worry, he'll be back soon. Just sit tight in the shirt he gave you 'til he gets back." He paused, then smirked. "You wouldn't mind spending some time with me, would you?"

My heart raced.

Goddamn, that smile.

"No, no I wouldn't mind." I smiled sheepishly. "Just…kinda don't want to get out of bed."

"Why?"

"I'm so tired." I whined. "I don't wanna move."

He laughed. "Well, walk over to my room and get in _my_ bed. We'll sit and watch TV. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful. But you're missing something."

"And that something is?"

"I don't wanna move."

Cole rolled his eyes and walked over to the side of the bed. He tore the sheet off of me and scooped my body up.

"Problem solved." He grinned.

He carried me out of his older brother's bedroom and kicked the door open to his own room. Cole dropped me onto the mattress, and my body bounced, the oversized shirt Abel gave me rising. I quickly pulled it down. I looked up.

Cole stared at me.

"What?"

"Are you…?" He trailed off, looking puzzled.

"Am I what?"

"Not wearing underwear…?"

I blushed. "As a matter of fact, I'm not."

His gaze diverted to my legs, tightly crossed to prevent anything from being seen. "Well, okay then." He said, and climbed into bed beside me. "Why aren't you? Dare I ask."

"Abel's getting my clothes. I didn't have any with me." I shrugged.

"Couldn't you have put the same one's back on?"

"Eww!" I said. "That defeats the purpose of showering."

"I suppose it does." Cole appeared distracted.

_Why am I always missing clothes? Oh, well. It's hot as fuck here, anyway. Who can blame me? _

I shook my head. "Something wrong?"

"Why do you ask?" Same distant tone.

"Just curious. You seem…distracted."

"Not at all, Lex. I'm exhausted."

"Liar."

He grinned. "Well, you are pretty much naked, laying next to me."

"And you aren't getting anywhere with me, I hope you know that." I smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. Hand me the remote; we've got some TV to watch."


	27. There's Always Something

_It's fucking midnight. Where the hell is Abel? _I groaned. _I don't mind sitting here with Cole, but god dammit, we were supposed to go out. _

_Son of a bitch._

"What's the matter?" Cole asked, nudging my side.

"Huh?"

"What's wrong."

"Oh. Nothing. Nothing's wrong." I lied.

Cole turned toward me and rest on right arm. "Liar. Tell me."

"I don't know. Just wondering where your bastard of a brother is. He was supposed to get my clothes and come back. Where'd he disappear to?"

"I'm not sure. He wouldn't say-you know him."

"Yeah. I guess." I shrugged. "Just…humph. He needs to come back."

Cole laughed. "He will. He always does."

I nodded. "Hmmm…I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?"

"Nah." He shook his head. "Hurry back, Lex."

"Don't hold your breath."

. . .

I placed the half empty can of Pepsi onto the counter, and wiped the soda from the corners of my lips. I wandered off, walking around the house aimlessly, eyeballing the walls as if it were covered in paintings. But there was nothing to be seen, only the stark, white paint. And that intrigued me more than any painting ever could.

Emptiness.

This house screamed it.

There was barely any furniture, or food for that matter, although the two resided here. No one questioned the house's abandoned feeling either. The showroom appearance of this home passed for normal.

I shook my head, discontinued dwelling on the state in which their home was maintained, and plopped down on the couch. The room, for the most part, was dark, lit dimly by the streetlights outside. I laid back, stretching out my legs, relishing the cool leather against my hot skin.

I yawned.

I have slept quite a bit the past few days, but it still isn't enough for me. Everything has become tiring. God, even grabbing a can of soda has exhausted me.

I closed my eyes and listened to the muffled sounds coming from the TV in Cole's room, the cars passing on the main roads. I relaxed my body, breathing in and out, deeply, and slowly, until I unwound.

The door bell rang, startling me. I jumped off the couch and approached the door slowly. I stuck to the shadows, not wanting to be seen, paranoid of who might be standing outside of the front door. I turned the locks quietly and opened the door, peering through the small crack.

No one there.

I moved to shut the door, but abruptly, a figure stepped out of the shadows. I panicked and swung my hand out toward them. My fist connected with their throat. They doubled over, clutching at their neck, choking. I leaned over and flicked on the light switch, turning on the lamp in the living room. The person looked up at me.

"Nice to see you too."

"Shit. Are you okay?" I extended my arm out, offering to help Batista up. "I didn't mean to hit you like that."

He waved my hand away and pushed himself up. "That's my fault," He rasped, "I shouldn't have scared you like that."

"Come in, come in." I stepped out of the way. "Do you want a drink? Water, soda?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine." Batista walked inside and took a seat on the couch. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Of course not. I owe you that much; I did just punch you in the throat after all."

"True." He smiled. "For a small girl like yourself, you sure can hit. You're quick, too."

"I've had some experience when it comes to fighting." I grinned. "What brings you here at this late hour?"

"I have some things I would like to go over with you." He rubbed his throat. "And before I forget, there's a duffel bag on the porch. Is it yours?"

"Might be." I walked to the door once more and opened it. I stepped outside and clutched at it's handles, and dragged the bag inside. "My clothes might be in here."

"Moving in?" He joked. "I heard this wasn't your actual address."

"It's not. I stay with these two most of the time." I set the bag down on the table and sat beside the detective on the couch. He turned toward me.

"Why hadn't you mentioned that the last time?"

"I think I was just a little too distracted by the new lawn decoration. Can you blame me?" My nose wrinkled. A pungent odor began permeating the air. "Do you smell something?"

Batista raised both his arms and began sniffing under them jokingly. "Sure isn't me."

"Not me, either. I showered a little while ago."

We both glanced toward the duffel bag resting on the coffee table before us, most likely thinking the same thing: the source of the odor must be the bag.

_Not again…God, please… _I groaned.

"Do you know how long that bag has been there?" He asked, still staring at the bag.

"I have no idea. All I know is that my clothes were supposed to be dropped off. But I don't think Abel would have just left my things on the porch. He would have brought them inside…and tell me that he got everything, too, at least."

Batista stood. "Hmm. I'll check inside the bag. In case it's just your clothes, you don't care if I rifle through this quickly, do you?"

"Not at all." I shook my head.

He slowly unzipped the bag, as if he were afraid something might jump out at him. He began sifting through its contents, pulling out shirts, socks, pairs of underwear-all that I had asked Abel to bring me. But with every item he withdrew from the bag, the putrid smell intensified. Batista clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, an attempt to block the smell from invading his nostrils.

It was then that I realized the bag was leaking, a dark, rust colored liquid.

It dripped off of the edge of the table.

"Um, Detective…?"

"Holy shit." He exclaimed, stepping backward from the bag. "I need to call for back up."

Curiosity overwhelmed me. I stepped forward, taking Batista's place, and peered into the bag.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

. . .

Batista spoke into his radio, listening the address as well as his urgent need for assistance. By now, Cole had risen from the bedroom, his eyes frantically scanning the room, a somewhat bewildered expression on his face.

"Go get my clothes from Abel's room." I ordered.

"Wha…?"

"Go get my-ugh, forget it." I stormed past him and jogged down the hall, and into Abel's room. I pulled my jeans on, and then the shirt I had worn earlier. I rushed back into the living room to stand beside Cole, observing the pacing detective. The image of the bag's contents burned into my mind like a hot brand.

Underneath _my _clothes, the ones I had asked _Abel _to bring me, had been a pile of organs; intestines, bits of other tissue, all decorated with squirming, white maggots. The body had begun to decompose. Not surprising, given the high temperatures and humidity. The corpse must be broiling in this weather.

_Unless it was frozen…_

_Or refrigerated. _

The detective ceased his pacing. "Alexi, you're coming in for questioning."

_Oh, just fucking awesome…yay…_

I nodded. "Anything I can do to help…"

"You said there were two other people living in this house, right? Here's one…where's the other?"

"Out…" I said slowly. "But I'm not sure where. He was supposed to get my clothes from my house."

"What is his full name?"

"Abel Vincent Hyde." Cole answered.

"Alright-well, scratch that, you're both coming in."

We all turned toward the large bay window and the front of the room to view the slew of police cars pulling up to the house, their red and blue lights flashing wildly. Detective Batista rushed out of the house, leaving Cole and I behind with that god forsaken bag. We traded glances. Cole seemed utterly dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. He stared at me with wide eyes.

"What's going on?"

"More parts. Intestines this time." I grimaced. "They were packed in with my clothes. Have you heard from Abel?"

"No, nothing." His jawed dropped even wider, somehow, and he glanced toward the bag. "You don't think-"

"No," I said firmly, "the organs in there have already begun to decompose. Besides, Abel _told _us he was going out. He didn't just disappear."

I snorted.

"What?"

"I just find it funny how he's disappeared twice already; once before the high school slaughter, and now before organs are mixed in with clothes from my house."

His eyes narrowed. "You're not suggesting he did anything, are you?"

"No." I said simply. "I just find it funny."

The detective returned a few minutes later, accompanied by a few other people, cops and analysts most likely. One of them seemed to recognize Cole, and offered a strained smile. I shot Cole a look to which he shrugged off.

_Christ, I know nothing anymore. _

One of the men that followed in behind Batista began picking at the bag with gloved hands, snapping photos of the entrails, and not to mention making lewd comments the entire time. This earned him a tap on the back of the head from Batista.

I tried to suppress a grin. And succeeded.

The woman who recognized Cole walked toward us, seeming wary, but never breaking her professional demeanor.

"Hi, honey." She smiled. She turned toward me. "Are the two of you siblings? I am Lieutenant LaGuerta."

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant." I smiled. "And no, we are not. Cole is a long time friend of mine."

"What brings you here, then?" She looked at Cole. "Are your parents home?" She stared at the both of us expectantly, like a mother waiting to hear her child's reasoning for doing something foolish.

"I live with my brother. My parents and I…well, we have a difficult relationship. Alexi is staying with us for now, especially after the recent events."

"It just spooked me a little. I feel safer here than at home. " I muttered, frowning.

"That is perfectly understandable. But it seems our killer has targeted your residence twice, now. Would you have any idea as to why that may be?"

_Yes, Lieutenant, I know exactly why: I, myself, am a serial killer of sorts. And now someone is tracking me, and taunting me with the body parts of my most recent assignment. One that I didn't get to kill. _

I shrugged. "I don't know…I have no connection to anything…one of the victims at the school _was_ my guidance counselor…but other than that, I'm just an unfortunate part in all this. It's not like I'm killing people, too." I laughed halfheartedly, smiling sadly at the woman.

She nodded, tightlipped, although her eyes seemed to soften a little. Must be taking pity in my situation.

_Good, Alexi, play innocent…make them pity you._

Batista approached the three of us and placed a hand on LaGuerta's shoulder. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to need these two. They're coming in for questioning." He looked at us. "Come on."

"I just need to grab my shoes. I'll be right back."

Batista nodded. "Hurry."

I turned and ran down the hall into Abel's bedroom and slipped my shoes on. I stood there for a moment, anxious, searching for something I could take with me.

Nothing.

I shut the door behind me and returned to the living room, nodded my goodbye to LaGuerta, and met Cole and the detective by the door. We stepped out into the bright flashing lights. Yards of police tape stretched across the property. We followed Batista to his car. On the way I spotted Deb, and for a brief moment, we made eye contact. She shook her head at me, frowning.

"Climb in, guys." Batista opened the door for us. "I'll be right back."

Cole and I got into the car and settled into the backseat. I sighed heavily and placed my head in my hands. For a moment, I felt like we had been caught, arrested for all of the murders we had been responsible for, including this one. But for once, in some way, we were innocent. No one had been killed….by my hand, anyway.

Yet.

We simultaneously shifted in our seats. I sunk into the seat, a strong feeling of dread washing over me, leaving a sick feeling in my stomach. I looked over at Cole. He had leaned over, and rest his head on the window, his eyes closed. Either he was trying to relax, or had somehow managed to fall asleep again.

My heart began to race as the detectives and cops swarmed around the car like angry bees, all speaking into their radios, suspiciously peering around, squinting into the windows of Batista's car.

_Oh, why can't they just do their job and leave us alone? For once, we're fucking innocent. Treat us that way._

Batista's heavyset frame approached the vehicle. He entered the car and pulled his seatbelt on, then started the engine. Glancing at me in the mirror, he asked, "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Oh, you have no idea…" I mumbled.

. . .

We exited the elevator and stepped into the cool, somewhat quiet, floor of Miami Metro in which Batista worked. The room was filled with cluttered cubicles, the walls adorned with photos and plaques, all signifying their achievements, as well as portraying new leads in ongoing cases. We followed him into a room in the far corner of the building. Glass was placed on one wall of the room, so that curious law enforcers could listen in on a suspect's interrogation. But we weren't suspects.

Not yet anyway.

He opened the door and motioned for us to take a seat. We entered the room, lit by a single startlingly bright bulb and sat on the cold folding chairs beside each other. He left us, promising that he would return shortly. I leaned forward and stared into the glass, knowing the detective must be on the other side listening for any details we may not have shared with him, anything that will help with the case. We stayed quiet.

Soon, Cole turned to me, a panicked look on his face. His eyes widened, his body trembled.

Unaffected by his sudden anxiety, I raised a blonde eyebrow at him. "What?"

He swallowed hard. "Do you…do you think they'll find all the bodies we buried?" He whispered, then broke out into a fit of laughter.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad you find this funny. Because I sure as hell don't."

"Why not?"

I stared at him incredulously.

"Right…the body parts." He mumbled.

"Yeah. The _body parts_." I spat. "I'm about this close to moving back home, I swear. This is ridiculous. A damned slaughter on my first day of school. And now we're the lucky winners of a fucking head, and a bag of intestines!" I threw my hands up in mock cheer.

"You seem more angry than scared." He remarked.

"I was never well at handling shit, you know that." I shifted. "I guess…I don't know. I just don't wanna be freaked out the whole time, you know?"

"Hm." He pat my arm. "It'll all get sorted out. Just relax, Lex."

"It better, because I sure as hell don't want random body parts being sent to me every week. I just moved here, too!" I sighed. "Ugh."


	28. Contact

Batista entered the room, three cold cans of Coke in hand. He set them down on the table. "Thought you guys might want a drink?"

"Got anything stronger?" Cole joked.

The man smirked. "I wouldn't peg you for someone who drinks."

"Old enough to, practically, but I don't." He paused. "It'd be a perfect time to start, though."

"I hear ya'." I agreed. "Are we being questioned separately, or together?"

"Separately. So, would you mind leaving for now? You can have a seat out in the hall. It'll only take a little while."

"Sure." Cole snagged a can of soda and left.

. . .

Batista sat across from me, smiling pleasantly and playing with the tab on the soda can. A few moments passed, neither of us saying a word. He stared, and expectant look in his dark eyes. I remained quiet. I crossed my arms over my chest.

_Is he waiting for me to crack?_

_Break down and confess that I'm involved?_

_Well….I can assure you that _won't _happen._

He pulled out a yellow notepad and uncapped his pen. "Can you describe your friend for me? The one that disappeared tonight."

I nodded. "Of course. Abel…he's about…six-foot-three, he has short, messy black hair. Blue eyes. Kinda muscular, too." I paused. "Well, more toned than anything, really."

"Any tattoos or piercing? Scars, maybe?"

"No piercing. Scars…he has quite a few. He has one that starts from behind his ear, all the way down to here." I said, tracing a line down to my carotid artery. "He's got another one, too. But I don't know how to describe it."

"Try your best."

"Hmm. You ever hear of the Chelsea Smile?"

Batista nodded.

"He's got the start of one. A three inch scar protruding from the left side of his lips. As far as tattoos go…." I trailed off, thinking of the Brotherhood crest he has tattooed on him. We all have it. "He has a family crest on his rib cage. I couldn't describe it, though. It's been years since he got it."

"And when was that?"

"About five or six years ago?"

He continued writing on the pad, listing all of the details I had given. Cole's brother had amassed a great deal of scars over the years. Either from his victims fighting back, or from the fights he had been in. All too often, he let his temper get the better of him. His incredible strength always lent him the upper hand, thankfully.

I looked up. Batista had set his pen down. "Now that that's out of the way, let's talk."

"Okay."

"Something about you troubles me, Lexi."

"And what troubles you, sir?"

"You seem so innocent…"

"Yet so guilty." I rolled my eyes.

"Exactly. Like you know something, but won't tell us."

"And what would I know about any of this?"

"Why you're being targeted for one." Batista suggested. "The last time we met, you offered a lot of tips for us to follow. Things we should look into. Why? How could you have picked up on all of those little details?"

"First of all, lack of security in a city school is not a small detail; I came here expecting to be strip searched when I walked in. But there was nothing, no one. So of course I would notice that. Besides, I was taught to always be observant. As for those _tips_ I gave, that's just my…dunno, my writer's mind kicking in. I write mysteries. Watch too much TV. Just because I can think of shit like that, it doesn't make me guilty."

"That's true…but you're also being targeted. You can't deny that." He scratched the hair on his chin. "Come to think of it, you weren't that thrown off when we told you about the head. Were you expecting this?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Expecting _what_?" I leaned forward. "To be the victim of a killer's games?"

He said nothing.

"What are you implying, _detective_, that I am involved with the killings somehow?" I scowled.

"Take it however you want, Alexi. I'm just trying to solve the case."

I sighed and leaned forward to rest my arms on the table. "Look. The past few days have been extremely trying. I apologize for becoming so snippy with you. I can assure you that I have no part in an of this, aside from being the recipient of a few choice body parts. Which in fact did scare me. But I have a way of maintaining composure, unlike most." I looked him in the eyes. "But, why suspect that I am guilty?"

"First off, why the sudden accent?" Batista raised a thick eyebrow.

"Hmm?"

"You've been speaking with an accent."

"Shit!" I muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I took a deep breath. "I was born and raised in France. I try to hide the accent so that you may understand me, but it slips when I'm frustrated."

He nodded.

"Now, why suspect me? Of all people."

"Because we found this in your house." He leaned down and picked up a clear plastic bag and dropped it onto the table. Inside, was a black composition book. Batista leaned back in his seat and stared at me, seeming satisfied. A smug look crossed his face.

My eyes widened slightly. "You…found my journal…? I don't understand how that could possibly incriminate me."

"You don't." He deadpanned. "Well, after reading through it…."

"And violating my privacy, no less."

"We found notes on your counselor. And the school's security."

"Yes, about how skittish she seemed. But I had written nothing about the security. Mind you, this was written after I had spoken with her over the phone to set up an appointment with her. If you find anything incriminating, I think you're just looking too hard."

"Are we? Because we found your 'plans' for her."

My stomach dropped.

I hadn't written anything about that.

All plans were mental, there was to be no written evidence. Nothing that could implicate you in a crime was to be kept. Nothing remained within the hands of a killer. I let out a ragged sigh.

"What plans?"

Silence.

"What plans are you talking about? The _only_ thing I wrote in there, was that she seemed skittish. Paranoid."

Batista nodded.

"Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous." I muttered. "Do you honestly think I am capable of killing someone? Let alone butchering people in a damn public fucking setting? Yes, I've been in fights. Yes, I've wanted to hurt someone. But never did I have such a violent streak that I would dare to murder someone. Or even consider it."

A moment passed. "Let me see the journal."

"Of course." The detective unzipped the bag and removed the book. I reached over and pulled it toward me and began flipping through the pages. The last entry was scrawled in red ink, in a neatly written script.

"This isn't my handwriting," I said, staring at the page, "I didn't write this. Everything before it, yeah, but not this."

He slid his notepad and pen over. "Then rewrite the first line of that page, and we'll compare the handwriting."

"Can't you just test it against everything else in the journal?"

"Just to be sure. Rewrite it in both print and script."

"Fine." I picked up the pen and wrote the first line in print, then in script. I pushed both the notepad and the open journal over. He looked at them, then at me. "Compare them yourself; the handwriting is nothing alike."

"You wouldn't happen to be ambidextrous, would you?"

"No. My left hand," I said, raising it, "is useless. I can't write with it. I can barely write with the other, either."

It's true. I have horrible handwriting.

"Have you tried?"

"Once, when I was younger. But it looked terrible so I gave up."

He sat back in his chair. "One thing that really bothers me, is that this guy is going after you. But why? What makes you so special?"

"I'm…an intelligent blonde?"

He gave a small smile. "You are very intelligent….too smart for your own age."

I shrugged. "If you wanna say that, sure."

"Do you ever have violent thoughts?"

"What? Why?"

"Just answer the question. Do you?"

"Well…what kind of violent? Like beating the shit out of someone, or killing them? I've wanted to beat the shit out of some people, but never kill anyone."

"You've never wanted to? Never had any thoughts about hurting or killing someone?"

"No. I don't wish death upon anyone."

Lies. I have extremely violent thoughts almost constantly.

Once, while cleaning the dishes, I picked up a knife and flashed on slaughtering my entire cooking class.

I opted out on dishes from then on.

Cleaning the counters suited me better.

The detective's skeptical eyes softened slightly. "Your involvement in a case like this, it makes you a suspect. But, quite honestly, I don't think you're capable of murder."

Oh, how wrong you are, detective.

"A second ago, you were ready to slap the cuffs on me."

He nodded his head.

"Make up your mind, detective. Am I innocent, or am I a seventeen year old, deranged killer?" I shook my head. "I don't appreciate being toyed with. If I am innocent, not suspected of a damn thing, tell me. Same goes for the opposite." I paused. "I at least want to know what's going on in that head of yours."

"You seem annoyed."

"Slightly. More straightforward than anything, though." I smiled. "Attitudes can be incriminating, can't they."

"Yes, they can be." He raised an eyebrow.

"Fourth grade. I stole a book from the library. The librarian found out it was me, because I was the only one that became defensive and panicky."

"That can get you caught. Stress reveals a lot."

"So does a slip of the tongue. In my case, the presence of an accent."

"How?"

"I told you before, did I not? The accent slips when I become stressed."

"Ah. I never would have known you had an accent, though, if it didn't come out while you were talking."

"Some are better at hiding it than others."

"I choose not to hide mine."

"And that is your choice. Mine is to mask it." I cleared my throat. "Although, it does hurt to speak like this."

"So why do it?"

"So you can understand me." I laughed.

"Do you speak like this around your friends?"

I shrugged. "Occasionally."

"You have a very thick accent, too…when did you move to the US?"

"When I was twelve years old I came here. New Jersey was where I lived before I moved here. The homesickness…Christ, it was of an intensity that I could never have imagined."

"Do you miss it now?"

I nodded slowly, closing my eyes for a moment. "Yes, I do. I have wanted for years to return home. But, money in our village was scarce. It wasn't a poor region, no, but due your economic problems here, the once abundant swarm of Americans dwindled to only a handful. Per year, anyway. Many shops weren't bringing in enough money to maintain their businesses."

"So you come here?"

"My aunt's unfortunate decision. I much prefer the simplicity of our life in the village. It's far too…busy…rushed, here. I don't like it. At all."

The detective made notes on his pad. "You said before that you find it easy to hide things. What else have you hidden?"

"Just an accent. Other than that, no secrets."

"We looked into your background the other day. After the first body part."

"Mhm."

"And we found nothing. It's like you don't exist."

I blanched. "How is that possible? All of the necessary paperwork was filed when I moved."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Might be a slip in the system. Or, you gave an alias."

"I did no such thing!" I half shouted. "You said I was suspected of nothing, and now you throw this in my face? What's next? Are my prints going to magically fucking appear somewhere?"

"Attitudes can be incriminating…"

I glared. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes! It certainly is. It's not my fault you are too goddamn incompetent to find a birth certificate, or anything of the sort. Why am I singled out? I'm going to be eighteen in a fucking week, why must this all happen now?"

"I'm not responsible for the timing, or the murders, Lexi."

"And neither am I."

If I _was _responsible, things would have gone a hell of a lot smoother. I would have started school, checked in with her regularly to look like a good student concerned about their grades, and built some sort of relationship. I would have tracked her, followed her, tapped into her phone, search every damn file and website on her computer.

And then I would have killed her.

And no one would've known.

Batista stared at me for a long moment, making no indication that we wished to speak. The two of us sat there, locked in each other's gaze, our demeanor's hardening, becoming bitter. I stared at the glass, knowing Cole was on the other side, slumped in his seat, waiting like a child called to the principal's office. He must be growing more and more anxious.

If it was Abel sitting out there, he'd have been tapping on the glass the entire time, yelling to hurry.

_A killer with a sense of humor_, I thought.

I scoffed. Abel and Cole…so unalike. The only similarity they possess is their eye color, and their scar ridden bodies.

Able, the tall, strong loudmouth.

Cole…average height, average strength, reclusive, too.

The brothers are total opposites.

"Laughing and smiling now?"

"Huh?" I looked at him.

"What's on your mind?"

Killing, killing…and, oh, almost forgot; killing.

"Thinking about Abel." I grinned. "He'd be trying to kick the door down if he were here with us."

"You say that like he's dead."

My eyes widened. "Don't you say that. Abel's okay."

"And how do you know that?"

"I don't. I just want to believe he is."

"Well…we're searching for him as we speak."

"Have you heard anything?"

"No." Batista glanced at the door.

"Oh." I said, suddenly disappointed.

"I think we're done here. For now, anyway. Have your friend come in here, please?"

"Of course." is smiled pleasantly at him and turned toward the door, my smile contorting into a lecherous sneer.

Cole sat outside the room, swinging his foot idly, his eyes trained on something in the distance. I looked over and saw Deb. She stood before one of the desks, shuffling through a pile of papers, her eyes squinting and widening at each.

"He's done with you?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "wants you, now."

"Alright." He grunted as he got up from his chair. "See you in a bit." Cole pat my arm and walked in the room. The door slammed shut.

"Ah, fuck." I sighed, taking Cole's seat.

I pulled my legs up onto the chair, crossing them like a child would, and leaned my head back against the wall. A buzzing sounded from somewhere close, and I soon realized it was coming from my pocket. I had never taken it out. I pulled the small device out and pushed the screen up, revealing the keyboard.

**From: Unknown**

**1:23 a.m. **

_**So, how was the interview, killer?**_

My eyes shot open. I growled loudly, fury building inside me. A cop walked over.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanna go home." I said curtly. He nodded and left.

I hit reply and began crushing the small letters with my thumbs.

_Who the hell is this?_

A second later, a reply:

_**A ghost of your past, my dear.**_

I quirked an eyebrow. What? A ghost of my past? My phone buzzed again. I opened the text.

_**You must be confused. I understand. I can tell you this much: I have been watching you for years. I must say I know you very, very well. Take care, my dear. I'll be watching….**_

My stomach churned as I read each word. I suddenly felt violated at possibly having been watched by someone. And for years, apparently. I shuddered. This person must have been around for quite some time, but to call themselves a ghost of my past? Who the hell could it be? No one has ever stuck around in my life. There were no crazed exes, and all of my kills were most certainly deceased…or were they.

I grimaced. No, I highly doubt anyone could have survived; all bodies were either burned, buried, or chopped up…no one could have ever lived. I heaved a sigh.

"You okay, kid? You look like a fucking mess."

I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. "Aside from the damn stroke I just had? Yeah, I'm wonderful. Shitting rainbows."

Deb sat down on the chair beside me. "I watched the interrogation." She shifted to face me. "No idea you were from France. Pretty friggin' cool."

"If you say so." I gave a half laugh. "So, you saw his little innocent-slash-guilty routine? An accusation here, a little denial there…" I rolled my eyes. "Got me so frustrated, I gave up on hiding the accent."

"I can see that. Well, hear it, anyway. You're full of fuckin' secrets, aren't you?" She smirked.

"No, no. As I told Batista, I carry no secrets. After all, what do _I_ have to hide from anyone?"

"Nothing at all."

I gave a knowing smile. "Correct. So, when the hell are we leaving? I don't like this place. Makes me paranoid."

"Nothing to be paranoid about unless you did something." A deep voice said.

I looked up. A tall, pissed off-looking black man stood at the end of the hall. He leaned against the wall, his left leg bent so that it crossed the other. A cup of coffee sat in his hands.

"True, but I haven't done a thing. Don't like cops. They have a habit of scrutinizing everything I do and say."

"Tch." He scoffed. "I'd repeat what I said before, but I won't bother."

I smirked. "Yeah. Well, neither will I."

He rolled his eyes. "Morgan, keep an eye on this punk ass kid."

"Hey!" I frowned.

"And where's that freak brother of yours?"

_Goddamn this guy's got a mouth on him…I oughta kill him, _I thought.

Deb glared. "He's not a freak."

"Well where is he?"

"I'm not his keeper."

"Humph. He better get his freaky ass back; I wanna know whose organs got mixed in with this girl's laundry."

I scowled.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, his voice filled to the brim with attitude.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I'm having a wonderful night, sir."

He stepped forward. "I won't deal with any sarcasm from you."

"So lose your attitude, and there will be none from me, _sir_."

Deb chuckled.

The cop's jaw dropped slightly. It seems no one has challenged him.

"What's wrong with you?" I mimicked.

He pushed off the wall and left.

"Look at you, pissing cops off; you've got nothing to lose tonight, huh?" She laughed, nudging my arm.

"Nothing at all, Deb, believe me." I faced her. "You think they're gonna be on my ass?" I dropped my voice down to a whisper. "Because I have a week, maybe more, til school starts up again…and I have some things to take care of. And I don't wanna be watched."

"If they do decide to have someone watch you…I'll see if I can be the one to do it. After all, I guess I do owe your ass."

"Yeah, you do. I'm keeping you alive." I smiled.

"And thank fucking God for that." She pursed her lips. "So why were you flipping the fuck out a few minutes ago?"

"No reason…" I trailed off.

"Bull-fucking-shit. Tell me."

"Whoever the killer is, they just contacted me." I frowned.

Deb leaned forward, her eyes widening. "And you don't fucking tell anyone?" She hissed.

"I kinda can't, remember?" I sighed. "If anyone finds out, I'm connected somehow, I'm screwed."

"No shit. You'll be fucked up the ass if anyone fuckin' finds that shit out."

"Yeah, so lower your damn voice!" I swatted at her knee.

"Oh!" Deb smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Lex."

"It's okay. Just…try not to be _too_ loud."

We became silent. It wasn't awkward, or tense, but a much needed silence. A reprieve from the dissonance of this hectic night. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

"Lexi!"

"Hmm?" I opened an eye.

"Dexter is here. I'm gonna check in with him."

"Alrighty."

"Let me know if anything happens, again, okay?" Her eyes showed nothing but genuine concern. She smiled warmly. "I'll only be a few feet away."

"I'll keep in touch." I grinned.

"Good," she said, walking off, "and try not to piss Doakes off again!"

"No promises!" I called out.

Without fail, my phone buzzed. The second she turned the corner, it rang again.

"Motherfucker…" I mumbled.

I opened the screen.

**From: Abel**

**1:45 a.m. **

_**We've got a **_**big **_**problem, kid. **_

Abe? My eyes widened and my heart began to race. I began typing.

_What's wrong?_

It took a few minutes for him to reply. The tension is making me sick.

_**Nikki's dead. **_

I gagged at the sentence, the thought of my Guide dying…oh, dear god….this is fucking horrible. I cleared my inbox and pulled the SIM card out and placed it in my pocket. My vision began to fade. My heartbeat escalated as well as my body temperature. My body swayed side to side in the seat.

Then everything went black.


	29. Going Home

I can't move. My body feels as if it has been weighted down. I struggled, trying to move if only in the slightest way, but to no avail.

Everything is black. My eyes won't open.

Voices swam in my head; who they belonged to, I'm not sure. Who am I with?

Am I still outside of the interrogation room?

So many questions…and they all make my head ache even more. I sighed internally. Everything seems to be getting worse as the hours go by. Every possible thing that could go wrong has happened, and it has affected me far more than I had planned on.

If this killer had not placed the head on Abel and Cole's fence post, neither of us would be here now. The cops would be handling their side of the investigation into the murder, and I would be looking into mine. I never would have been suspected.

This will be the death of me, I swear..

I blacked out again.

. . .

Hands gripped my arm lightly, a voice whispered in my ear, urging me to wake up. Slowly, I came to. I opened my eyes finally, the bright fluorescent lights blinding me. I groaned and shielded my eyes.

"Finally up." A voice said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fucking dandy."

"Here, try to sit up." I was pulled up by someone. My eyes are still bleary, so I can't tell who it is. I rubbed my eyes.

"How long was I out for?"

"About an hour."

I glanced over to the left. Dexter stood in the corner watching me intently. "Really?"

"Yup." He answered. "You stood up for a second, then dropped to the floor."

"Huh. I don't remember standing up. I guess I had blacked out by that point already."

"You probably did. Are you okay?"

"I'm as okay as I'm going to get."

"Would you like some water?" A female voice offered. I recognized it as LaGuerta's.

"I would, actually. Thank you." I smiled wearily.

The lieutenant left the room. I looked around. Deb sat in a chair in the corner. Dexter stood opposite his sister. I laid back down on the floor. I looked up at Dexter. His eyes were trained on me.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just wondering why you passed out."

"Yeah, why did you?" Deb asked.

"Check and see if the lieutenant is coming back." I nodded toward the door and pushed myself up. "Whoa." I clutched the side of my head. "Dizzy."

"You alright?"

"No one's coming." Dex said.

"Yeah, Deb, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy." I closed my eyes. "Abel, the one who went 'missing' tonight, Cole's brother? He text me before."

"And?"

"My guide, Nikki, is dead." I said the words grimly.

The room became silent. I went on to explain who she was. "Nikki was my guide, meaning she handed on assignments, people to kill. She's very important. Has knowledge on almost everything I've done, files detailing every kill. She held quite a bit of information that could incriminate me. It could have me put on death row if found."

"So what made you pass out?" Deb asked.

"Her death. It hit me hard. We're not related by any means, but she was like family to me. I grew up with her. After my parents died, she had trained me. Made me who I am." I frowned. "But something is off about her death. Why kill her? She…really didn't have any involvement in this, aside from being the one to tell me who I needed to go after."

"She could have been involved with the killer without you knowing."

I scowled. "She was secretive, but she was there to watch over me; she wouldn't aid in my demise."

"How can you be sure?" Dexter said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words escaped from my mouth. Speechless. Could Nikki have betrayed me? Tried to have me ruined? I shook my head. "It's impossible. She wouldn't have done that to me."

Dexter walked over toward me. "Everybody has secrets. You and I know that better than anyone."

I sighed. "You're right….I don't know. It's just hard to believe that she would try to hurt me in any way. We were all supposed to watch over each other, ensure our safety."

I feel…hurt. Like a lover that had been cheated on. Why I even feel that way…is beyond me. I am always skeptical of my own relationships with people…but this feels different. This wasn't supposed to happen, she's not supposed to be involved with anything.

Then again, this is only hypothetical, right? Nikki was not definitely involved with anything…this could have been an accident…or she could have been chosen to be killed.

"I know it hurts," Deb said, trying to comfort me, "but right now, shit shouldn't surprise you. Everything you wouldn't have expected is happening."

"Miss Morgan is right. You're going through a lot right now, and it must be stressful. That might explain why you fainted."

We all turned to look at the lieutenant. She had returned, a paper cup filled with water in hand. She brought it over to me. "Thank you."

I looked at Deb. "How long had she been there?" I mouthed at her.

She shrugged.

"You're welcome, honey." She took a seat behind her desk. I planted my hands on the ground and pushed up. My body swayed. Still unstable, I guess.

Dexter hooked his hands under my arms. "Here you go." He said as he lifted me up.

"Thanks…?"

"Dexter." He smiled.

"Dexter." I said, smiling. "Thank you."

"No problem."

I took a seat next to Deb and faced LaGuerta. The lieutenant glanced between the three of us. "It seems the Morgan's have taken a liking to you."

I looked at both of them. "I guess they have."

"And what a great two to have looking after you." She said, smiling at Dexter.

I smiled. "Yeah."

"You've been here nearly the entire night. I'm guessing you'd like to go home soon?"

"Oh, you have no idea." I yawned. "I wanna climb into bed and forget this night even happened."

"I don't blame you." LaGuerta said. "Once your friend is finished with his questioning, we'll send the both of you home."

"Thank God."

She chuckled. "Yes, thank God. You'll be safe and at home. Do you have anyone to come and pick the two of you up?"

"Uh…" I trailed off.

"I can drive them home." Deb offered.

I looked at her.

"Are you sure?" Her boss asked.

"Yeah. I'm done here, anyway." She turned to me. "That okay with you, if I give you a ride?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I don't think I have anyone else that could drive me, anyway." I laughed. "I'd probably wind up having to walk home."

"Oh, we wouldn't let you do that."

"I'd be safe."

"With a killer out there? No. We can't have another victim." The lieutenant shook her head.

I might not be completely safe. But, at least if this fuck approaches me, I would have a chance at killing them with my bare hands. I nearly smiled at the thought.

I shrugged. "Well, either way, I just want to get home."

"We're all done here." Batista said as he entered the room with Cole.

"Perfect fucking timing." I whispered to Deb.

She grinned and nodded her head. "Damn right it is." She stood. "I'll be taking these two home, now."

. . .

We climbed into the back of Deb's car. On the way out, I had told Dexter to follow us to Abel's after I had gotten clothes from my house. _Clean _clothes this time.

The ride was silent, save for the muttering of curses from Debra's lips, and the many times she slammed her fist down on the horn. I could have complained and told her to relax, that we would be off of the main roads soon, but it was the least of my worries. Occupying my mind right now, was the thought that this killer could be in my house at this very moment, waiting for me to return, or better yet, stalking the house. If that was the case, the killer would see Deb and Dexter. That would put them in danger.

"Deb?"

"Yeah?" She peered into the mirror to see me.

"I think it would be best for you and Dexter to pull over at the end of the block. Away from the house."

"Why, is there something you don't want us to see?"

"No…" I hesitated. "Rather, you're something I don't want to be seen. You and Dexter…in case the house is being watched, I'd rather the two of you not be seen."

Deb nodded and pulled out her phone. She called her brother and told him that they'd stop off at the end of the block and wait.

. . .

"Stop here." I said as we pulled onto my block.

"Alright." She pulled over. Dexter, following closely behind, followed suit. "Be safe guys. You have my number if you need me."

"I'll call if anything happens." I looked at Cole. "Let's go."

I got out of the car and walked over to Deb's window. She rolled it down. "Keep the doors locked. Don't open them for anything. Don't get out, either of you. We'll be back."

Cole stood next to me. "She's right; don't get out for anything. Don't unlock the doors. Matter of fact, we'll call when we're coming back, alright?"

"Okay. I'll let Dex know, too. Hurry up, guys."

I grabbed Cole's arm and walked off. We stepped up onto the sidewalk, our strides long and quick, set on entering and exiting the house as quickly as possible. I could sense Cole's body tensing as we neared the house. "Calm down." I told him, but the words were empty. I was on edge, paranoid, hyperaware.

I feel like a rubber band being stretched too far; tense, and damn ready to snap.

"You have a key?"

"Yeah." It was still in my jeans pocket. I had taken nothing out. My jeans were too tight for anything to fall out, anyway.

I came to a halt. We were one house away from mine. The neighbor's greenery provided sufficient shadow to cover Cole and I before we approached the house. Granted our trek up the block wasn't exactly stealthy, if someone was in the house and unaware of our visit, this will give us a chance to hide should they come out. I pulled him behind me, and focused on the house; there were no signs of my home being occupied. All lights were off. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But, nothing is always as it seems, is it?


	30. New Roommate

A few moments had passed, Cole and I still hiding in the cover of the shadows provided by my neighbor's shrubs. I tried to will my body to move, but all I could do was stand there and watch the house with wide eyes. My block had become unusually quiet, for many nights, almost every night, upon my moving here, those living on this block would be outside almost all hours of the night. But tonight…everyone was inside. Quiet. And most of all, safe inside their homes.

Or were they safe?

Is anyone really safe anymore?

I sighed and slumped against the fence, gripping the metal to prevent it from making too much noise as it shook. My body had already felt weak since I had fainted, but I feel it even more so now as we stand here waiting.

"So…are we just gonna stalk your place, or actually go inside?" Cole whispered in my ear.

"We're going in. I just want to make sure no one's there."

"And hiding behind the bushes is going to help you figure that out?" He sounded annoyed.

"Okay, Ms. Bitch, relax. I don't wanna meet whoever the fuck is picking us off at the door."

"Well five minutes has already passed, let's go." Cole walked ahead of me toward the house.

I sighed and jogged after him. Cole walked briskly up the path leading to the front steps of the house. He paused on the first step and turned, gesturing for me to hurry. I don't blame him for being annoyed; it's after two o' clock in the morning, and neither of us have gotten a break from anything.

I trudged up the stairs, my anxiety building with each step. I pulled the key out of my pocket and pushed it into the lock. It turned, the lock clicking loudly. I pushed the door open.

Darkness.

Even from the doorway, I cannot see into the house. I gripped the frame. "It's like the dark is consuming everything."

"Huh?"

"I feel like it just got darker out."

"If you say so." Cole said as he pushed past me into the house. I raised an eyebrow. Normally he is the nervous one. What's gotten into me?

I followed in behind him and closed the door. I scaled the wall, searching for the panel holding the light switches. "There it is." I said, and turned the lights on.

The living room looked the same as it had the other night. Nothing different, no sign of a struggle. Just…a neat, cozy-looking room. As relieved as I felt that our home had not been torn apart, the home's normality was just as unsettling. If only for the fact that Brothers were always taught not to make a mess. This room could have been where Nikki was killed. And there's not a speck of blood to prove that. I shuddered and waved Cole over and headed up the stairs to where our bedrooms were. I went in mine first.

Just as I had expected; nothing out of the ordinary. My sheets were still unmade, my books scattered about the room. I paced around the small space for what seemed like an eternity, and still found nothing wrong. I opened my closet and pulled out a messenger bag from underneath the mass of sneakers and clothes that had fallen off of their hangers. I stuffed as much as I could into the small bag. After struggling to close the bag, I turned to leave, but something had caught my eye. I entered the room again. My bathroom door is open.

It's never open.

Never.

"What?" Cole asked. "You see something?"

"Yeah. Just stay in the room. I need to check something."

I crept toward the bathroom, adrenaline rising. I pushed the door open slowly, watched the light from my lamp slowly brighten the room. I stepped in, flicking the light on as I did so. I peeked behind the door, the shower curtain, and found nothing, no one hiding. I paused.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Cole called, rushing toward the bathroom. "Is everything okay?"

I crouched on the floor and picked at the grout, lifting one of the tiles from its place.

"Lex?"

I lifted a finger, gesturing for him to give me a minute. I pulled the tile up and set it aside. In a small space that I had made under the floor, were the tools that I had used for killing. I peered in. the case was gone.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Motherfucking son of a bitch, it's fucking _gone_!" I slammed my fist into the wall behind me. The bones in my hand cracked loudly. I withdrew my hand from the hole in the wall and clutched at my wrist, seething, and wincing at the pain.

"What's gone?" He stared at me, his eyes widening. "How's your hand?" Cole knelt beside me and grabbed my hand gently. "You broke your knuckles."

"Oh? I did? I hadn't fucking noticed." I said sarcastically. "Fucking call Abel."

"Why-"

"Now!" I yelled.

"Okay! Shit…" Cole backed off and left the room. The stairs creaked as he walked downstairs to get the phone.

I rooted around the space under the tiles to make sure that I had not missed the case. I felt nothing. I shook my head…all of my knives were in there, blades, hooks, anything I could use I kept within that black box. Not even Nikki knew where this was…I hadn't told any-

"Abel." I said out loud.

I had told him where my tools were. Could he have used them? Or stolen them? What if he had killed Nikki? Come to think of it, the two of them had never really gotten along…but what motive would he have?

"Alexi?"

"Yeah?' I shouted. "What?"

"The line's dead."

"Are you fucking serious?" I pushed myself up from the floor. "Try again."

"I've been trying. But the line's dead. You have your phone?"

"Yeah…I have it." I took my phone out and dialed Abel's number with my good hand. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, the tone painfully dragging on until he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Abe. We've got a problem…well, one right now. We haven't checked the rest of the house."

"Don't say anymore over the phone, I'll be home soon. Finish what you have to do, and meet me at the house. Nikolai will be there waiting."

I made a face. "Alright…I guess."

"Bye, Lex." He hung up.

I grabbed my bag on the way out of the room and made my way down the hall. To Nikki's bedroom. I had only been in there once or twice, but each visit was brief. She had never liked me to be in her room. I gripped the doorknob. It was locked. I raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck this." I muttered, and slammed my foot into the door. The wooden mass swung open and struck the wall, most likely creating a hole. I dropped my bag and walked in.

Her bedroom was much smaller than mine, for she had given me the master bedroom and taken the smaller one. She was generous in that aspect, that she'd give up more living space for herself, for someone that is barely home in the first place. Really, I had no use for such a large room. I'm never home. It is just something to come back to. Nikki could have used the space; she held all of my files, which had increased in number incredibly fast over the years…and had just as quickly come to a screeching halt with my latest task.

Lining the walls were numerous bookshelves, all filled with novels she had amassed. She was an avid reader. It was her escape from the stresses of being a Guide.

I opened her closet, which fortunately, was large enough to hold her file cabinets. They were open…they shouldn't be. I pulled one of the draws out. All the files seemed to be in place…seemed being the keyword, anyway. I'd have to look through each to make sure they weren't missing. And I don't have the time and patience for that.

"So, this is Nikki's room. She never did let me in here. Without a fight, anyway."

I froze at the sound of the words. The voice…it's deep, and raspy, one that I had not heard before…and yet still carried a vaguely familiar feeling to it. I moved slowly, trying to twist my body around in a way that would not alarm the person. I spoke.

"So, I guess you're the one that killed her?" My voice sounded calmer than I had expected it to.

"Oh, I am. And I killed your dear Ms. Cameron, your principal, and those other lovely women, as well."

I laughed. "Why waste your energy on any of them?"

"Why waste _your_ energy trying to stop me? You're going to die either way."

"Oh, I am, now." My heart raced. "So why not just kill me here?"

The killer laughed. "It's far too much fun watching you break down, little by little, with each thing I do to you, Alexi. I want to keep this going just a little longer."

"You're a sadistic killer. I haven't met one of you in a long time."

"Ah, yes, I remember all of the pathetic little men you killed…I must say, I admired the ways in which you tortured them. You're very creative."

I shrugged. "I have a good imagination, what can I say."

I want nothing more right now, than to turn around and kill him. To overtake him, and break his fucking neck for all that he's done.

"I can tell you what _I can _say. You take after your mother." I could practically hear him grinning behind me. "She was a bit twisted, too. Your father on the other hand…he was the more detached killer."

"Oh? How so?" My anger slowly began to rise.

"He was never personal, that's all. He preferred taking his victims out with a gun from a distance, whereas both you and your mother tend to capture the victim and proceed to torture them for an extended period of time, then finally kill." He chuckled. "Remember Nixon Adler?"

"Yes, I do remember him…"

Nixon had been one of my more recent kills. I had found him over two years ago, and tracked him until the summer of last year. He was a pedophile. And had no preference as far as who he loved to fondle more. Virgin flesh was virgin flesh and nothing more. And he longed to taint it. To tear away their innocence.

One of the children he had touched, was a two year old girl. He violated her in every sense of the word, and documented every bit of it he could.

Adler had been jailed multiple times for touching children, for being too close to them. He was placed on watch lists.

Soon, he became fed up with not being able to act out his sick desires in peace. He took out his rage upon the children and began killing them. Slaughtering them like cattle.

I met him finally at one of the many beaches in Jersey.

_. . ._

"_Hi." I said breezily. The man beside me was over six feet tall, had a nice build, good looks. Meeting him for the first time, you would not suspect him of committing an crimes whatsoever. I had run into him a few times before. He was a very charming man, indeed. Adler had the ability to make you feel secure, safe in his presence. _

_No wonder it was easy for him to attract the children. _

_He turned toward me, the salty wind blowing in his hair. He shielded his eyes and smiled at me, his lips flanked by dimples shadowed with a blonde stubble. "Hey, you. I've been seeing quite a bit of you lately."_

"_I don't hear you complaining about that." I smiled._

"_Why would I? You're a gorgeous girl."_

"_Oh, please. I am not."_

_He smirked. "You certainly are. Hell, I'd love if I could see even more of you." His dark eyes crawled up and down my body, soaking up every inch of skin he could see. _

"_Maybe you'll get a chance to." _

"_Only maybe?" He frowned playfully. "Why won't you be a nice girl and say yes?"_

"_I don't like saying yes. I like it when the boys fight for me." I turned and began walking away. He followed, just as I had expected he would. _

"_You like playing hard to get, huh?"_

"_I get off on it." I joked. _

"_I think I can see that." He stayed quiet. "I bet I could get you off, too."_

_I stopped walking. "Now someone's being just a little inappropriate."_

_He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't offend you, did I?"_

Like you care, _I thought._

"_Hey, I never said I didn't _like_ being talked to like that." I winked. _

"_You dirty girl…" He trailed off, a devilish smile slowly spreading across his face. _

_I grinned at him._

"_So am I gonna see more of you?" He asked. "As in actually seeing you."_

"_Oh, you definitely will." I said slyly. _

"_Promise?" He said, stepping closer._

_I placed a hand on his arm, my thumb massaging over the skin. "I promise." I looked around. "Actually, are you with anyone now?"_

_He shook his head. "No, I came down here by myself. Just felt like getting out…seeing the sights."_

"_You know," I started, stepping closer and placing a hand on his chest, "you really are sexy."_

"_Me?" He grinned._

"_Yes you." I smiled. "You wanna come back by my place? I have a house not too far from here."_

"_No one's home." I added before he could answer._

"_I'd love to…but aren't you under aged?"_

"_I'm a lot younger than I look, trust me. Follow me to the house. You won't regret it." I winked at him and walked off, headed toward my car. _

_. . ._

"_So, here we are." I said, unlocking the front door. "It's a kinda out of the way place, I know, but it's nice. My sister and I live here." _

"_Is she home?" He asked, looking around the living room. "Nice place, by the way. I see you like the whole 'modern' look. Not typical of a shore house, I can tell you that."_

"_Nope. And yeah, my sister likes to design the houses her way. I would have rather kept it pretty basic-"_

"_Make it look like a real beach house, right?"_

"_Exactly. You want a drink?" I asked. I opened up the fridge and pulled a few bottles of alcohol out. _

"_Aren't you too young to drink?" He asked jokingly._

"_Maybe by a year or so. Not like age matters or anything. Just depends on whether or not you can handle it." _

"_Can you handle it?" He asked, stepping behind me. He pressed his hips into the small of my back. _

"_I can." I handed him a bottle. _

_. . ._

_We sat in the living room, enjoying our drinks, chatting. Nixon had downed his first bottle. Perfect. "Want me to get you another one?"_

"_Nah, I can get it."_

"_No, let me. You're my guest after all." I smiled. _

"_Why thank you. Such a good hostess, you are."_

"_I try my best to please my guests." I smirked. _

_I uncapped another bottle for Nixon. This one, though, had droplets of m99 in it. He should be unconscious within a few sips of the drink. I shook the bottle to mix the liquids. My phone buzzed. I checked it. _

_**From: Nikki**_

_**12:47 p.m.**_

_**When you start, tell me. I'll have the car removed.**_

_I closed the phone and brought Nixon his drink. "Here you go."_

"_Thanks, beautiful." He smiled appreciatively. "You're taking good care of me, huh?"_

"_Oh, I'm just getting you drinks is all. I see you're trying to smooth talk me."_

_He took a swig from the bottle. "Nothing wrong with being just a little flirty."_

"_I guess not."_

_I watched him drink, taking gulp after gulp of the poisoned drink. He finished it shortly. Adler placed the empty bottle on the coffee table and leaned back, resting his legs on the couch. His feet grazed the skin on my legs. I shuddered. He ran his foot back and forth on my leg, nudging his foot underneath my thigh until his toes swiped between my legs. My body reacted to the touch, although unwanted, and my hips bucked forward, pressing into his foot. _

_He chuckled softly. "What's the matter?"_

"_Nothing." _

_I scowled and moved away from him. I sat on the arm of the couch and watched the drug slowly take effect. He slurred his words, struggled to move as his body paralyzed until he finally knocked out. _

_I grabbed my phone and punched in Nikki's number. "Get the car." I said, and hung up._

_I picked Nixon's body up and carried him into the basement. You would think I would not be able to lift a large man like this, but I have grown accustomed to carrying bodies._

_. . ._

_His eyes finally opened. He came to. I sat in the corner of the room, watching his eyes flit around the room nervously, panic consuming him. Nixon struggled against the restraints, but to no avail._

_While he was unconscious, I had unclothed and restrained him in an _almost_ Christ-like position. His arms were spread and tied to columns in the center of the room. His feet had been restrained as well, his body tied in such a way that he is lifted off of the ground. It must be painful for him, a strain on his muscles, but I do not care much at all for making sure he is comfortable._

_I only want to see him suffer. _

"_Ah, you're awake, I see." I smiled. _

"_What…the fuck..?" He slurred. _

"_I'm sorry I had to knock you out. I just didn't think you'd let me do this to you willingly." I shrugged. "Unless you're into that sorta thing, you know?"_

_I sat on the floor in front of him. "So, what am I gonna do with you, Nixon?"_

"_F-fuck me?" He grinned lopsidedly._

_I laughed. "No, silly."_

"_S-still playin' h-hard to get?"_

"_Nah, I gave that game up a while ago." I smiled. "I wanna play a new game now."_

"_Oh yeah? And what fuckin' game do you wanna play?"_

"_I haven't decided yet. But, it might hurt a little, I know that much."_

"_I can take pain." He said defiantly._

"_We'll see about that."_

_Nixon stared at me. "When you gonna let me go?"_

"_When I feel like it. I wanna ask you some questions, though." I stood up and began circling him. His taut body seemed to become even more rigid as I passed him, tracing finger nails across his tanned skin._

"_So what are you going to ask me?"_

"_How many little boys and girls have you killed? And sodomized, too." I chuckled. "You seem to like sodomy."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about." He seemed angry now._

"_Sure you don't. You have no clue what I'm talking about; all the times you were jailed for touching kids, stepping too close, staying at the park a little too long…?"_

_He glared at me. "So what, are you getting revenge on me or something? Cause I didn't do shit to you."_

"_I suppose, in a way, I am avenging those children. But no, I was just sent to kill you. What I do with you in the time before you die, well, that's my choice. We could watch a movie if I wanted."_

"_And why can't we do that instead of this?" He pulled on the restraints. "Is this necessary? Why the fuck are you even killing me?"_

_I rolled my eyes. "This," I said, pulling on the cord securing him to the column, "is the least of what I'm going to do to you."_

"_Then what else are you planning on doing..? I'd rather you just fucking kill me."_

"_Nah, the torture makes it far too much fun. I would never skip out on that."_

"_Sadistic bitch." He muttered._

"_You're so kind." I said sarcastically. "But, since you're so curious about what I'm going to do to you, why not start? I've got to make sure you're secured tightly, though. Give me a minute."_

_I laughed. "Not that you're going anywhere."_

_I walked to Nixon's left and grabbed a thin wire, tied tightly to the column, a heavy fish hook on the end of the cord. He craned his neck around to watch me. I saw his eyes widen in fear as I brought the hook close to his ribs. _

"_Now, this is gonna hurt." I warned, and pulled the skin up. I stuck the end of the hook through the skin and pushed until it broke through, blood gushing from the puncture wound. I let go of his skin. The flesh stretched out from his side. I repeated the process on his other side._

_He writhed in pain, thrashing about, cursing and yelling all the while. His face reddened as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Fuck! Fuck! You fucking bitch!" He growled._

"_Such language." I tugged on the hooks, pulling the cords, thus tearing the skin even more. He yelped in pain. "Keep cursing like that and I'll do worse."_

"_What the fuck else could you do?" He half shouted._

"_Those aren't the only hooks I have left." I pointed to the floor beneath him, and the ceiling. On the floor was a cord connected to the floor, a hook on the end. The same was on the ceiling, taped so that it wouldn't hit his head. "You don't listen, either, do you. I told you, I'll put more fucking hooks in you if you keep talking to me like that."_

"_You think I give a fuck at this point!" He shook his body and stopped as the fish hooks tore his skin. "Ah! Fuck!"_

_I walked around him and reached up toward the ceiling. I tore the tape off of the wire and pulled the hook down. I paused. "Hmm. Let's put some music on, shall we?" _

_I left him and walked over to the opposite side of the room and pressed play on the stereo sitting on the floor. Screaming erupted from the speakers, lyrics of violence and bloodshed filling the small room. I returned to my spot behind Nixon, and clutched at the skin on the back of his neck. I felt him tense, awaiting the inevitable. I jammed the metal through the skin. He screamed._

"_Now, there's one more hook left. I'm probably going to put it in regardless of what you do, so I guess it really doesn't matter what you do. Hey-wake the fuck up!" I frowned. His head began lolling from side to side. The pain must be getting to him. _

_His head snapped up._

"_That's better." I knelt on the floor in front of him. _

"_Gonna blow me?" He wagged his unclothed lower half in my face despite the pain. _

"_No, I've got a better idea." I grinned up at him. I lifted the final hook._

"_Uh…" He trailed off, his eyes widening at the metal. "Where's that going?"_

"_Balls. I figured I'd do a little public service by mutilating these." _

_I grabbed the fleshy appendage. Nixon began thrashing wildly, yelling for me not to do to it, to not destroy that part of his body. I grazed the tip of the hook on his skin, taunting him. I nicked the skin. Adler hissed in pain._

"_Hey, try and keep your voice down for me, will you?"_

"_Why should I?" He asked, staring down at me._

_I thrust the point into his flesh. He screamed, his body wriggling, all of his movements increasing his pain. I stood up and retrieved a cup containing sewing needles. _

"_I think a little acupuncture should help you relax." _

_I knelt before him once more, my hands returning to his chained appendage. I set the cup down and removed a handful of needles. I quickly got to work, pushing the needles in on all sides of his organ. I pressed them into the flesh slowly, listening to the skin pop as the needles broke through. _

_Finished with that part of his body, I moved upward. I stood eye level with him, pins in hand. I gripped at his eyelids and pinned them to his forehead, the lower lids pinned to his cheeks. I jammed pins into his now open eyes, inserting them into his pupil. Nixon Adler screamed, a guttural sound emanating from his throat. _

_The sound however, thankfully, did not exceed the volume of the stereo. The music played on, the sounds pushing me, fueling my anger, giving me the edge I needed to continue on._

_I walked off, ignoring the screaming man, and dragged a large duffel bag over to him. I unzipped it, and pulled out a large, heavy blade. A machete. I fingered the edge of the knife._

_Sharp._

_It cut the skin on my finger. Blood trickled down my hand and onto the floor. _

_I gripped the handle. I stepped closer to him and grabbed his member. With one quick motion, I severed the limb from his body. He cried out in pain. I shoved the part in his open mouth, silencing him. He choked and sputtered, but never was able to spit the part out. I touched the blade to his hip, and hacked away at the meat until his left leg fell to the floor, his ankle still hanging from the column._

_I did the same to the other leg._

_Blood sprayed from his body, staining the floor, coating in a layer of the warm, sweet crimson fluid. I brought the blade to the space between his collar bone and traced it down to his abdomen. I lifted the blade back to his collar bone, and drove the blade in. I pushed in until I could no longer move the knife. I tugged downward, tearing through his organs, ripping through his flesh and exposing his entrails. _

_His screaming ceased._

_The blood loss had killed him._

_. . ._

"That was a violent kill…it certainly was, yes. Although I pity him for having his testicles destroyed in such a way." The killer remarked.

"Well, he was a pedophile. I figured destroying what had destroyed those children would be a nice way to avenge them."

"Why should you care about the children, Alexi? You care about no one but yourself…and your little cop friends." He said the words with disdain.

"I guess I shouldn't care."

"You have no heart, child." He sighed. "Such a shame…I wish I could end your life now."

"So fucking do it." I spat. "Why fucking toy with me?"

He stomped across the floor, stopping directly behind me. I could feel his hot, sweet breath on the back of my neck. "You've got quite a fucking mouth on you, hmm?" He grabbed a fistful of hair. "Keep talking like that and I'll cut your lips off."

"Oh, so now you're threatening me directly." I laughed. "I'll fucking kill you."

"How can you? You don't even know who I am."

"You're right on that, but no one ever said I couldn't find out." I struggled against his hold.

"Hmm, actually, you know exactly who I am. I'm sorry to cut this short, my dear, but I have to go." His fist collided with the back of my head.

Again, everything went black.

. . .

"Lex, get up!"

My body was being shaken violently. I jumped up.

"Fuck." My head ached, the room around me spinning wildly. I looked around. I was sitting in the middle of Nikki's bed. Cole, Dexter and Deb standing over me. "What the hell…"

Deb sat on the edge of the bed. "You guys were in here for quite a while, I thought we should come in and see what happened. We found the two of you passed out."

"Yeah, and I know who did it."

Everyone turned and stared at me.

"Whoever the fuck is running around, offing people I'm connected to was here. He spoke to me. But I couldn't see who it was. He held me, made me face the wall."

"We didn't see anyone enter or leave the house." Dexter said. "I was watching the whole time."

"He was probably already in the house. Must have known I'd come back." I turned to Cole. "Abel's meeting us back at the house. Nikolai should already be there."

"You do realize the cops are looking for him, right?" Deb said.

"Abel will settle things." I got up from the bed. "Let's get out of here."

. . .

I checked the time on my phone as we pulled into the driveway. It's close to four in the morning. The sun will be rising within a few hours, and still I have not finished handling things. What Nikolai is even here for…I don't know. It is probably about Nikki's death. I dragged my bag out of the car and thanked Debra for the ride.

I began walking up the path, but noticed one car had not left. Dexter still sat in his car, his blank face staring directly at me. I trudged over to him. Dexter's arm shifted slightly. He rolled down the window.

"How come you're not leaving?" I leaned on the car.

"I don't feel it's safe for you. I want you to come back to my apartment once you're done here." Dexter turned his head toward the passenger seat. He seemed to be arguing over something with himself.

"If you don't really want to take me, it's alright, Dexter. I appreciate it, though."

"No, I do want to take you. But…did you want to stay here?" He seemed like it was painful to ask, to say that he wanted me there…despite the fact that he offered to begin with.

"No. I want to get out of here. Come inside."

Dexter nodded and got out of the car. We entered the house to find the Hyde brothers and Nikolai waiting in the living room. Nikolai stood.

"So, this is the infamous Dexter Morgan. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand.

"Hi." Dexter shook Nikolai's hand. "You are…?"

"Nikolai Ashby. I am a good friend to these three. I help them when I can with their tasks. Now," He turned to us, "I see we have a very big problem."

I pulled Dexter over toward the couch. "We do. I assume you know Nikki is dead."

"I heard." His lips were pressed into a firm line. "The body was taken as well. How is the house?"

"Exactly the same; no signs of anything, not an object out of place…aside from my tools." I grimaced.

"Tools?" Dexter asked.

"Not literal ones. My knives, scalpels…things like that. They're gone, missing from where I had kept them."

"They're not gone." Abel said. "I have them. Remember you told me where they were? I removed them from the house so if the cops searched the place, they wouldn't find them."

I sighed in relief. "Where are they then?"

"My room. The case is in my closet."

I resisted the urge to jump across the room and hug him. "Thanks, Abe."

"Don't thank me."

I shrugged. "Anyway, why are you here?"

Nikolai crossed his arms over his chest. "Just to check in with the three of you. I hope you are aware now, that with Cole and Lexi being questioned, you will be watched over. You're considered suspects in these murders."

"He's right." Dexter said. "They'll probably have people following you, now."

I rolled my eyes. "Great. So how the fuck am I going to get anything done with cops watching me? It's bad enough school is going to start up again soon."

"Well, I think you can get help from Dexter here, and his sister, so long as they act as if they're just checking up on you."

"Actually, Dexter wanted me to stay with him."

"Is that so?" Nikolai asked curiously. "Why do you want Alexi with you?"

"If I keep her with me, she'll be away from the cops. No one will know where she is." Dexter shifted. "Plus, it might be a little safer to get out of this house."

"You have a point. Well, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'll be off. You have my number if you need me."

We all stood up and said our goodbyes.

I looked at Dex. "Should we leave now?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

. . .

The ride with Dexter had been quiet, the only words spoken between us were those discussing the sleeping arrangements. He had opted to give up his bed, while I refused and said I would take the couch. We went back and forth on that for a few minutes until I settled with taking his bed.

"I still feel bad." I said as we turned into Dexter's parking space. I glanced up at the apartment building. "I don't wanna kick you out of your bed."

Dexter shrugged. "Don't feel bad. I don't mind taking the couch."

"Are you sure?" I frowned.

"Yes." He cut the engine.

"Alright. Well, I am definitely knocking out when we get inside."

"That tired?"

I laughed. "Yeah! I fainted, got knocked unconscious, been up for hours dealing with this shit. It drains you, believe me."

"Killing is a tough business."

"It definitely is."

. . .

"Welcome home." Dexter said, in a mock cheerful voice. "I'll show you around."

I stepped into the apartment. The style Dexter had decorated his apartment was a very neat, modern look. A desk sat atop a small tan carpet to the right of the door. Sitting before it and separating the little 'office' area from the living room, was a white bookshelf full of books. The pale blue walls of the apartment had a soothing affect on me. This seemed more like home than any other house I had been in.

My house…I didn't even want to be in.

The Hyde's…well, it just seemed empty.

Dexter's home, for some reason, came with a sense of security…calm. Maybe Dexter was right in saying I would be safer here.

I continued looking around. Not that there was much to see; all of his apartment lie before me right now, aside from his bedroom. And for a one bedroom, it certainly was a nice place.

"If you want to get changed, my bedroom is over here." He motioned for me to follow. He led me down the hall and opened the door, revealing his room.

His bed was centered along the wall, the headboard extending somewhat high, stopping just a few inches short of the bottom of the picture frames hanging above the bed. Curtains covered the large window to the left of us, blocking out whatever light that may try entering the room. A small nightstand sat behind the bed. Dexter took my bag from me and set it on the bed.

"You can get changed now. If you need me, I'll be in the living room."

"Alright…thank you, Dexter." I offered a small smile.

"You're welcome." He smiled back and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

I quickly disrobed. I folded my clothes into a neat pile and set them on the end of the bed next to my bag. I unclipped the top of the bag and began rifling through it for clothes. I sighed, frustrated that I couldn't find anything. I pushed my bag onto the floor, and laid down, happy that I was finally out of my jeans. All I had on was underwear, and after having been under a lot of stress, and dealing with Miami's heat, it felt great to climb in to bed, undressed and relaxed.

I crossed my arms over my head and closed my eyes, losing myself in the comfort of the bed. I began drifting off to sleep, my body slowly relaxing, my muscles no longer tense….

The lock clicked. I jumped up. Dexter stood in the doorway staring wide eyed at me. I quickly covered my chest, my face reddening.

"I'm sorry, I'll go." Dexter mumbled awkwardly.

"No, no. just let me throw a tshirt on real quick." I leaned off the side of the bed and pulled a shirt out of bag, and thankfully, I had chosen one of my larger shirts. I quickly put it on. "Better. You can look now."

"I guess you were getting pretty relaxed, huh?" Dexter said. He averted his gaze to the mess of clothes on the floor.

"I'm sorry. I just got undressed and laid down…rifling through the bag was getting on my nerves. Can't tell me you haven't ever enjoyed being undressed." I joked.

He shrugged. "I guess I can't. I figured I'd check on you."

"How come?"

"I wasn't sure if you were asleep or not. You didn't come out of the room, so."

"What, were you gonna tuck me in?" I laughed.

"Something like that." He smiled. "Well, get some sleep. Goodnight, Alexi." Dexter turned the light off and shut the door.

"Dexter!" I called.

The door open. He peeked his head in.

"Could you…not shut the door?"

"Why?" He raised and eyebrow at me.

"Not sure…guess I'd just feel safer that way."

He cracked a smile. "You're a trained killer…"

"And I can't sleep with the door closed, I know." I rolled my eyes jokingly at him.

He laughed softly. "I'll leave the door open. Goodnight, now."

"Goodnight."

I settled back down and rolled over, facing the window.

Again, I began falling asleep.


	31. Pancakes and Panic

I opened my eyes. The Miami sun peaked through the curtains, lighting the room, and unfortunately so. I closed my eyes tight and pressed my face into the pillow, wishing for the damned sun to go away. I yawned and pushed myself up onto my elbows. Slowly, I sat fully up.

I looked ahead of me, through the open door, and saw Dexter sitting at his desk, watching me like a predator stalker its prey. He made no indication that he noticed I was awake, and if he is even watching me, or just in a trance…

I decided to wave at him. "Morning."

"More like _afternoon_." He said almost immediately. "You slept pretty late. It's almost two."

_Ah, so he was watching me.._

I slumped over. "What, really? Dammit." I got out of the bed and padded over toward Dexter. I leaned against the wall beside him. "Shouldn't you be working, or something?"

"I stayed home to make sure you were alright. They can do without me for a day."

"If you say so. I don't need to be babysat, you know." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Maybe not, but I still think it's not safe for you to be alone."

"Dexter, I appreciate your concern, but I'm no child. I can take-"

He leaned forward. "The killer found you, made contact with you. It'd be better if you were away from yours and Cole's houses. He might not know where you are, then. So I'm keeping you here."

"I guess you're really not gonna let me argue with you, huh." I frowned.

Dexter smirked. "Not at all."

He looked up at me, his eyes darkened by lack of sleep. Dexter looked exhausted. I glanced downward. He hadn't changed out of his clothes from last night, either. I suppressed a yawn. "Jeez, looking at you makes me tired. Have you slept? At all?"

"I was up all night."

I gasped. "Go sleep! There was no reason for you to be up…unless you're an insomniac. Either way, Dex, you're an idiot for staying awake." I frowned. "It wasn't because I took the bed, right? You weren't uncomfortable? Shit, I knew I should have slept on the couch…"

"Lexi, it's alright. I just stayed up the rest of the night to…watch over you. I'll get some sleep later." Dexter stood. "But for now, we eat. Late breakfast?"

"Sure, why not." My stomach growled. I haven't eaten a full meal in a while. "You think I could take a shower, though?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. The bathroom's right down the hall there." He walked into the kitchen. "Want pancakes when you're out?"

"That sounds great." I walked over to the counter and leaned on the cool granite. "Need any help?"

"No, I got it. Just go shower." Dexter rifled through the cabinets, looking for what he needed.

"Alright."

I left the kitchen and went back into Dexter's bedroom to get clothes. I pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and my tooth brush, then shut and locked the door behind me as I entered the bathroom. I dropped my clothes on the floor and turned the water on for the shower. I gave the water a minute or two to heat up, and brushed my teeth while I waited. Then I disrobed.

. . .

I stepped out of the tub, and soon realized I didn't have a towel.

"Dammit." I muttered.

I found one hanging on the back of the door, Dexter's towel most likely, and took it off the hook. I quickly dried off and put the towel back in its place. I hurriedly got dressed. I scooped my clothes up off of the floor and left the bathroom, my skin instantly covered in goose bumps as I stepped into the cold air. I stuffed my clothes back into my bag and then found Dexter waiting in the kitchen.

I tip toed over toward him. He looked up at me. "All clean now?"

"Yeah." I scratched the back of my head, feeling awkward.

"Really, Dexter, though, thank you. You don't have to go through all of this trouble." I made a face.

He set the items he needed down on the counter and got to work. I guess he'd waited to cook until I got out. "You have nothing to thank me for. After all, you're watching over me, too, aren't you?"

I blinked. I had forgotten I promised to look after both Dexter and his sister. So, I guess in a way, this is Dexter's way of paying me back.

"You're right." I said. "Still, you don't have to do this."

"And you don't have to watch me. I'm a big boy."

My brow furrowed. "But I still have to make sure that nothing happens-"

Dexter smiled.

I frowned. "Fuck you…"

He let out a small chuckle as he began mixing the batter for the pancakes. I watched him stir the viscous mix, his murderous hands working out all of the clumps of flour. I crossed my arms on the counter and rest my head on them.

Dexter placed the bowl down and readied the frying pan, and soon began pouring glops of the pancake mix into the metal pan. The smell of butter and flour wafted over toward me. I inhaled deeply, the delicious smell making my stomach growl once more.

"Ah, Dexter, hurry." I whined.

"Relax, you'll get your food."

I laughed suddenly causing Dexter to turn and look at me. "What's so funny?"

"I feel like an impatient little kid."

He smirked. "You sound like one."

He turned back to the stove, flipping the cakes and pouring more batter in. I stared at him, watching the muscles in his back flex with each movement he made through the thin fabric of his shirt.

I frowned.

I'm staying with a complete and total stranger, the only thing I know about him being that he is a serial killer. And has never been caught. And…I feel safe.

I'm really losing it, aren't I?

I should be a little more wary of strangers like this. I shifted my weight to my other leg. I pressed my lips into a firm line, and debated speaking to Dexter, or sitting here quietly until he was done cooking.

I turned on my heel and walked a few steps into the living room and sat down on the couch. My eyes wandered around the room, taking in each and every detail of the apartment.

It was quiet here, unlike the area where Cole and I lived, where the noise never ceased. The incessant loud voices, annoying music, drove me, for the first time, to consider killing a large group of innocent people. And I'd have done it, too, if there was a chance that I would get away with it.

Hey, I need my sleep.

. . .

I sat there staring blankly at the coffee table for a few minutes until I pushed myself up off of the couch and dragged myself toward Dexter. I looked at the counter, raising an eyebrow at the mountain of pancakes Dexter had created. He turned and handed me a plate, syrup drizzled over every inch of the cakes. He stuck a fork into the food.

"Enjoy." He said, and dug into his own plate, practically inhaling his food.

I watched him eat, with a mix of disgust and wonder, and raised an eyebrow at him. Dexter was not a messy eater, this I could tell, but goddamn, he could eat.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. You gonna lick the plate, too?" I joked.

"Maybe." he said, swallowing a mouthful.

I laughed, and began eating, almost as voraciously as Dexter, for I had not eaten a full meal in days. My stomach ached, my hunger pains somehow increasing with each bite I took. Pacing myself now, I took smaller bites, in the hopes that I would not eat too fast and make myself sick.

Dexter cleaned his plate off. "Do you want more?"

I wiped syrup off of my lips. "No thanks, this was enough."

The doorbell rang.

My body froze for a moment, before I quickly stepped backward and pressed my back to the wall. Dexter glanced over at me, an understanding look in his eyes, and told me to relax. He grabbed a steak knife from the drawer and slowly approached the door, unlocking it slowly. He twisted the knob and cracked the door open.

I shut my eyes tightly, praying silently that I had not been found.

Already.

In time, I expect to be located. The killer seems to have a good handle on my whereabouts, knowing exactly where I am, and what I am doing. And when. I can only hope that he is not here now.

Dexter removed the chain from the door and stepped aside, allowing whoever is outside in. I slunk to the floor, and wrapped my arms around my legs, not wanting to see who had entered the apartment.

My heart sunk. I have let myself become riddled with fear because of this unknown man. I am a killer. And I have dealt with far worse people, and put myself through countless dangerous situations. I should be able to handle this. But instead I cower in fear at the thought of him. The hold he has over me is haunting. I swallowed hard, and stood up.

"What were you on the floor for?"

I sighed.

_Deb…_

It is taking everything within me not to pull Debra into a tight hug. I couldn't possibly be any happier that she had been the one that rang the door bell.

I looked at me feet. "I thought…it was someone else."

"The killer?" she asked.

"Yes." I said. "I thought I had been found."

"Well, you haven't been. It's only me."

I gave a small smile. "And you don't know how happy I am that it is you."

She chuckled softly and smirked. "I'm glad you're happy to see me. But," she turned toward Dexter. "why the fuck is she here?"

Dexter shrugged. "I figured she'd be safe here. I mean, the killer wouldn't expect her to be with either of us. Right?" he asked me.

I bit my lip. "He…might have considered the possibility of either of you taking me in. When he spoke to me in the house, he mentioned the two of you. So, he knows that we're in contact with each other, or friends…in some odd way." I leaned against the wall. "He's probably been watching the both of you, and god only knows, could have followed me here."

"If that's the case, what are we going to do with you?" Deb asked.

"There's nothing you _can _do. I'm going to have to wait until I get a chance to see him. And in the meantime, pray that none of you are caught and killed." I walked toward them. "I know, it's a shit situation, but there isn't anything either of you can do, except stay on your guard. Don't trust anyone. We're dealing with a trained killer, who basically has no identity as of right now….if I could have gotten even a glimpse of him, catching him would be so much easier."

"But for now…?" Dexter asked.

"We wait."

"For what?" Deb looked frustrated. "To be captured and fucking tortured and killed?"

"No, for him to come to me. He'll contact me again, definitely. And he'll want to meet me. I can only assume, anyway."

"How can you be so sure? He may never make an appearance again."

I laughed. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"And you do." Deb said. "Because you're the one who has been shocked and freaked out by every fucking move this motherfucker has made."

I glared at her. "You try having everyone around you fucking die, and have everything fall apart in a two-day span. See how you fucking react to that. Let's see how you would feel, if you're the cause for innocent fucking people dying." I clenched my fists, and raised my voice. "I have so much fucking blood on my hands, that if there's one fucking slip up, I could be put on death row. So yeah, I'm stressed. My resolve is weakening a little. But don't fucking blame me, because I highly doubt you could fucking deal with this."

The Morgan's stayed silent.

"I know what I'm dealing with. This is affecting me badly, yes, because so many things could go wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to move on and leave…but no. Look what had to go wrong." I dug my nails into my palm as I spoke. "This person is a serial killer. Highly skilled. And I wouldn't be surprised if he _wasn't _working solo."

"You think it could be a team?" Dexter asked.

"There's no way multiple killings could have been pulled off at once by just one person. Think of all the things that happened; Cameron, the secretaries, the principal. Along with that, the speech was prerecorded, and he'd been dead for days." my eyes widened slightly. "And no one saw. No security, no janitors…when you were inside the building, had you seen any of the custodial staff?"

"No, I didn't."

"Me either." Deb said.

"You were with Cole, though, weren't you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but I had to go back. I just offered him a ride home. And when I got to the school, the place was empty…except for a few security guards, but they didn't seem to be doing much."

"Every time I think about this, it just raises more questions. There's no answers at all."

Dexter pat my shoulder. He looked unsure of what to say.

My shoulders drooped. "I…really am going to need your help with this." I looked at the both of them. "You have access to everything. I don't. You're really going to have to work with me now if we're to end this."

They nodded in unison. Deb spoke. "We'll help you, Alexi. Just tell us what you need, and we'll look into it."

"Thanks, guys…I'm really not used to working on…well, relying on people in order to get things done."

"I can tell. But there are times when you need to work together with someone to accomplish something." she said. "Just let us know, and we'll do whatever shit you need us to. This is an ongoing case, after all."

"I wish it was closed." I mumbled.


	32. Lies and Leads

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

A hand gripped my arm and shook me lightly, waking me. I opened my eyes and searched around the room, looking for Dexter. He sat on the edge of the bed next to me.

"Rita and I are going food shopping." he said.

"Okay." I mumbled.

"Did you want to stay here, or come with us?"

"Uh…I'll come with you guys. But, Dex?" I asked, sitting up.

He got up off the bed and stopped in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Who's Rita?"

"My girlfriend."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Get ready and I'll introduce you to her." Dexter left the room, allowing me to get ready.

I could hear him telling his girlfriend that I would be tagging along. Other voices, which I did not recognize, echoed in the apartment. They sounded like…children?

I changed into an old band t-shirt and shorts, and slid a pair of flip-flops on. I crept into the bathroom, not wanting to be noticed, and quickly brushed my teeth. Shutting the door quietly behind me, I walked out into the living room. Everyone had their back turned. They talked loudly, happily-aside for the small girl, who seemed to have a bit of an attitude-while they waited for me to finish getting ready. I approached them slowly, tentatively.

"Dexter?"

He turned around and smiled brightly at me, pulling me close to him and placing his arm over my shoulder. "Hey! Here's Alexi."

The group smiled and said hi as Dexter introduced them to me. Rita and her children seemed like a completely normal family; sweet, caring mother, and her two well, or seemingly, well behaved children. I looked at Dexter, wondering how he was able to maintain a double life, unsuspected of anything.

My whole life, I avoided close relationships. Solely for the fact that I did not want to endanger myself, or anyone else. In a way, I suppose I was scared of being caught, understandably so, and being deemed a monster. So I surrounded myself in the company of killers, people who would never reject me. Cold, unaffectionate people. And now the warmth that I feel in the presence of this family…it's unsettling.

Around…normal people, I expect them to be automatically suspicious, to know what I am. Which has led to my aversion of having friends, dates and the like. I immersed myself in school work, and in killing.

The young boy, Cody, stared at me. I smiled. "Aren't you that girl from the news?"

My eyes widened. "The news…?" I looked at Dexter. "I don't think I was ever on the news."

Astor spoke. "Yeah, I saw you on the news the other day, too! You had the head on your front lawn!"

"That was gross." Cody remarked.

Rita silenced her children. "I'm sorry for that. My kids get a little out of hand sometimes."

I shrugged it off. "Ah, they're just kids." I tapped Dexter's shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure. What about?" I gripped his wrist and pulled him into the bedroom.

"Do they know exactly who I am, or why I'm here?"

"They think you're a family friend that's staying with me for a while."

"A family friend? What about the news? I didn't even know the press was there." My anger began rising. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "So, does your girlfriend know that you're allowing a girl who's being stalked by a serial killer to live with you?"

"Yeah, I told her you were my mother's friend's daughter." He turned his head around to look at his girlfriend. "She doesn't know it was you. Look, everything's going to be fine. Just stay calm while we're out." he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"And if the kids say anything again?"

"You just happen to look like her." he shrugged. "Let's go."

"Alright. Just let me grab my phone."

. . .

I opened the door once the engine was shut off, and climbed out of the passenger seat. They had taken both cars, as they were both going food shopping, and didn't want the hassle of sorting through the bags to find their own groceries. Rita parked next to us. The kids jumped out of the car after Rita got out, and stuck to the side of the car until she gave them permission to walk out into the parking lot beside her and Dexter. I walked behind the group, wishing I could stand close to Dexter, but left the couple alone. Instead, I glanced around, looking and listening to every male that passed us on our way into the supermarket.

The sliding doors hissed as the opened, and a rush of cold air followed. I rubbed my arms. Rita and Dexter each grabbed a cart and began browsing through the aisles with the kids, picking up a few things here and there. I hung back a few steps, counting the number of tiles on the floor, and if I had not looked up in time, I would have crashed into Rita.

"Oh!" I said, stopping directly in front of her. "A little distracted, sorry." I apologized, feeling embarrassed.

"It's okay." She smiled. "I wanted to ask if there was any snacks you wanted while we're still in this aisle."

I looked around at the rows of brightly colored packages of cookies. I shook my head. "No, that's okay. I don't really eat cookies all that much."

"Are you sure?" Dexter asked. He picked up a package. Chocolate chip, with little pieces of candy in them. "I'll get this just in case."

"Thanks." I said.

Dexter nodded. "Are you alright?"

I breathed heavily. "Yeah…I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"You know I'm going to. I have to watch over you. You're my responsibility now." He said quietly.

"No one made you watch over me. Besides, that makes me sound like a burden." I frowned. "Eh. You'll do what you want."

"You bet I will. Now, come on. Walk with us." He pushed me forward gently, and returned to his cart.

Astor and Cody bounced around the aisles, asking every few minutes if they could have something, to which she would kindly decline. But after the first fifteen minutes of hearing them ask the dreaded question, her resolve weakened, and she caved, allowing the two little ones to throw into the cart what they wanted.

Rita turned to me. "I wish I had a child like you," she said jokingly. "You don't ask for anything."

I laughed. "I feel like a bother if I ask for anything."

"How come?"

I shrugged. "I never liked asking for anything. Or having things bought for me. I appreciate it, don't get me wrong, but I just never liked it. I hope that doesn't make me sound bad."

She shook her head. "It doesn't."

"I always hated my birthday for that reason, too. Never liked people wasting money on me." I shrugged.

"When is your birthday?" she asked.

"It was last week, actually. I forgot it was, too. I woke up that morning and was confused as to why everyone kept saying 'happy birthday'." I laughed. "I've been so busy lately, what, with the move and all, then having to register at a new school." I sighed.

"How long have you lived in the states? That's a pretty thick accent you have."

"Well, I was raised in France. Then I moved to New Jersey when I was about five or six, and bounced back and forth from there to Miami, until recently. I had gotten in contact with Debra, and she found out I was having trouble at home, so she offered a place to stay, and I guess it became a permanent thing. Then Dexter decided to take me in. His sister's place wasn't big enough, apparently." I rolled my eyes at him jokingly.

"So I guess you've been very close to them." Rita smiled.

Dexter grinned, and gave me a look as if to say he was impressed with my answer. "She's like a little sister to me. I've known Alexi since she was little. Her and Deb used to hang a lot when they were younger."

I nodded in response to what he said. "Dex is right; Debra and I used to be pretty close. But, we went our separate ways after a while. Dexter and I remained close. He always looked out for me."

Rita beamed. "He's such an amazing man, isn't he?"

I smiled. "Definitely is."

The two continued on with the children, and once again, I lagged behind. My eyes flitted around, and I became increasingly paranoid as each dreadfully slow minute passed. Dexter turned and asked me to go pick up a few things. I agreed and began searching around the store, walking up and down each aisle until I found what Dexter needed.

I reached up and grabbed a few boxes of pasta and spun around, unfortunately slamming face first into a stranger's chest. I stepped back, crashing into the shelf, but was pinned by the stranger. I gasped, and thrashed against him, trying to push him off of me. But the man was stronger than me. I pulled my hand back, and drove it forward as hard as I could, punching him in the ribs. He choked, and sucked in a deep breath of air.

His hands gripped the back of my head, finger nails digging into my scalp, pressing deeper each time I struggled against his grip. He lowered his head and whispered in my ear. "Scream, struggle, or pull that shit again, and I'll end your life right here. Do you understand?"

"Excuse me, is everything okay, here?" a voice asked. I would have screamed, but I knew better not to.

"Yes, everything is fine. My daughter is a little upset. We just found out her grandma died. She's taking this news very hard."

"Oh…I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

The person walked off.

"Lucky break you would have had, if that little bastard hadn't believed my story, hmm? You could have caught me, finally." he snickered. "Or maybe you would have died here, along with your cop friend and his family."

I pulled my head away from his chest and looked up. I was only able to catch a glimpse of his mouth. His skin was devoid of any facial hair, no scars or markings that could make him identifiable. His neck, however, had a patch of discolored flesh.

"Shit." the man muttered. "Your guardian is returning. I guess I'd better go, now."

He pushed off of me and walked down the aisle, pushing his, which a loaf of Italian bread, various packages of meat, cereals, other items, and a jar of sauce. A decently full cart.

I eyed the back of him. His tall frame sauntered away like nothing had happened, the man's shaven head staring straight ahead. As Dexter and the others approached, the man made a mistake; he turned his head around, revealing the side of his face.

His jaw line was squared, a pointed nose leading to thin lips. The killer's eyes were a deep, rich blue color. His face lent a sense of familiarity as well, even though it was just a small glimpse.

My heart raced. This time, out of excitement, not fear. I stared off in the direction the killer had walked, and gripped the small cardboard box in my hand until my fingers had broken through. Finally, I had seen his face. After weeks of waiting, I had seen him.

During that time, I had opted out of attending regular school, and chose cyber-schooling instead. Having the ability to choose when I do my work instead of being forced to attend school on a regular basis has made it considerably easier for me to focus on the problems that I am facing.

But now….things have gotten _so_ much better. I've finally seen his face. The side of it, only, I know, but a profile is good enough. I looked at Dexter.

"I, uh, have something to deal with. I remember the way back to your place, I'll meet you there." I waved my goodbye to Rita and the kids, and left.

"Is something wrong?" Rita asked.

"Yeah, are you okay?" Dexter said, approaching me.

"I'm fine, everything is okay, I just need to do something." I gave a tight smile and left.

. . .

I hid behind a display, containing cheap bottles of soda, and searched for my target. My eyes settled upon him.

At one of the many check out counters stood the killer. He unloaded the contents of his cart onto the conveyor belt and smiled at the cashier. The two made small talk, while she rang up his things, and he bagged everything. The killer was unaware of my presence, or at least I hope he is. I cannot be sure with this one. Did he think I would follow him? Or stay with Dexter?

Hopefully, he thought I would stay with them.

He paid, and left the store.

I stepped out from my hiding place and exited the store, sticking close to the vehicles in the lot. I walked in between the parked cars to better conceal myself in the bright sun, which proved to be rather difficult. Thankfully, though, he hadn't turned. The killer stopped and opened the trunk of his car, a blue Honda parked directly across from me. While he filled his trunk with his bags, I pulled my phone out and used the camera, zooming in on his license plate, and snapped a picture once I had a clear shot. I saved the picture and crouched down lower to the ground to prevent being seen when he backed out of his parking space.

I stayed in that spot for a few minutes until I was certain the killer was gone. I rose from my hiding place and wandered back toward the lane where Dexter's car is parked. Or, hopefully, still parked. Luckily it was still there. I leaned against the trunk of the car and waited for them to return.

. . .

"I thought you had something to do?" Dexter said, surprised I was still here. He popped the trunk.

"Need help?" I asked.

"Sure. You gonna tell me what that was about, or..?"

"Wait til we're alone." I said curtly. I took the last bag out of the cart and placed it in the trunk, and closed it.

Dexter nodded and went over to his girlfriend. The two kissed and hugged, Dexter gave the children a hug and promised he would see them again soon. Rita walked over toward me.

"It was nice meeting you, Alexi." she opened her arms for a hug.

I smiled and hugged her back. "It was nice meeting you, too."

"How long will you be here in Miami?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. For a while, most likely. I don't see myself going back home anytime soon."

"Oh. Well, I hope to see you again soon."

"I hope so, too. Take care."

I turned and sat down in the passenger seat. Dexter locked the doors, cranked up the air conditioning, and pulled out of his space and drove home.

. . .

After putting the bags away, Dexter finally addressed me. "So what happened?"

"He was there. In the store."

"Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm pretty sure, since he attacked me and all, threatened to kill me. And you."

He glowered. "Are you okay? More importantly, did you see him."

"I saw the side of his face as he walked away, and while I was pinned against the shelf, I saw that he had a discolored patch of skin on his neck, just below his jaw."

"Anything else?"

"His license plate."

"What do you mean? You saw his plate?"

I nodded. "He drives a blue Honda. I followed him into the parking lot and took a picture of his license plate. Is it possible that you could run it?"

"Yeah, yeah I can." Dexter rushed over to his desk and opened up his laptop. He waited. "Let me see the picture."

I handed him my phone. He typed in the combination of letters and numbers. I leaned over his shoulder and stared at the screen. An address came up.

"I wouldn't trust this. He could've stolen the car. But it is something to look into." Dexter said.

I let out a ragged breath. "Oh, definitely. Have you got plans for the night? I say we finally start working as a team."

Dexter grinned. "We'll check the place out later. You never know, he might be expecting you to arrive there."

"He might. Hopefully he believes that I ran back to you for safety." I looked at the address. "That's not too far from here, is it?"

He shook his head. "No, only a few blocks over. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"You're not thinking of going there yourself, are you?"

"No. Just wanted to know if he was close, or across town. Either way, I guess it doesn't matter."

"It really doesn't. I can get you there no matter where the house is. What matters is that we aren't seen by anyone."

. . .

About two hours had passed since Dexter and I had checked the plates on the killer's vehicle. We had dug into a carton of ice cream and settled down on the couch, the two of us staring blankly at the TV. I set my bowl down on the coffee table and leaned over and rest my head on the arm of the couch. I'm not tired by any means. More bored than anything, really. And impatient.

I have another five hours to wait until the sun sets, and it becomes dark enough for Dexter and I to check out the house.

And I'm not sure if I'll be able to wait that long.

. . .

I sighed. _Two more hours…then we leave. Oh, time, why won't you go by faster?_

I had dozed off on the couch for a few hours, which thankfully killed some time. Dexter apparently had fallen asleep, too. He had his arms folded over his chest, his face still held the same blank expression. The only difference was, is that his eyes are closed, and he's snoring lightly.

I turned my attention back to the TV, and watched whatever sitcom was on. I laughed here and there at the stupid jokes they made. Both Dexter and I jumped, though, when his phone rang. He shot forward and picked up his phone.

"Crime scene." he said. "I've gotta leave."

"Oh. Alright."

"I'll be back later. Don't answer the door for anyone, and call me if you need me."

"Will do." I said. "Be careful, Dex."

"No promises." he grunted, as he lifted his bag over his shoulder. He left the apartment and locked the door behind him.

I got up and put the chain back on.

. . .

My phone rang sometime after Dexter had left. I checked the screen, and saw that it was Abel that had text me.

_**You coming back anytime soon, Lex? **_

I responded.

_I'm not sure. I'll be home when it's safe._

Within seconds of sending the text, I got another. And another. My phone proceeded to blow up with text messages.

I checked Abel's messages first.

_**It is safe to come back.**_

_**Nothing has happened since you left.**_

_**Just come back, Lex, it's better that you stay here than with that cop. I don't trust him.**_

They were all sent within a few seconds of each other. Abel must have been typing fast, and not getting his ideas out all at once. I closed out the messages and checked the others.

One from Dexter.

_**Is everything okay?**_

And…one from Unknown. I groaned, and opened the texts.

_**It was nice seeing you today, darling. You look good. I apologize if I cut up your scalp, I didn't mean to be that rough. But, you did punch me in the stomach, after all. I bet you ran back into your cop friend's arms, didn't you. All scared of the man who's killing off everyone around you.**_

_**Will you be able to find me, Alexi?**_

_**I doubt it.**_

_**But, I'll find you. ;)**_

"Of fucking course you will." I shouted angrily. "But not if I find you first."


	33. The Chase

"Of fucking course you will." I shouted angrily. "But not if I find you first."

I tossed my phone across the room, surprisingly not breaking the phone into pieces, and got a bottle of water from the fridge. I drank about half of the bottle and set it down on the counter top.

Dexter's laptop was still open and running, powered by the cord plugged into the back of it. He hadn't closed out the page, so the address we were to visit later was still visible. I stared at the address, repeating it to myself over and over, memorizing it.

_4786 Sterling Drive.._

_I'm going to be visiting you later…and I can only hope this isn't a trap._

_Trap._

I groaned at the word, and prayed it wasn't so. This could be my one chance at coming face to face with the man who has made my life hell, all in the short time span of a week. Things have died down, as much as they possibly could, and have been somewhat easier lately since I've moved in with Dexter. Not much has happened, and I've stayed out of the eyes of the press.

I rooted around Dexter's desk for a sheet of paper, found one, and grabbed a pen. I started doodling, drawing random shapes until the page had filled. I gave the ink a minute to dry before I flipped the page over and covered the other side. I capped the pen and put it away once I finished and leaned back in the chair. I pushed the chair from side to side, and closed my eyes.

"Boredom blows…" I yawned.

I returned to Dexter's computer, and typed in the address of a popular, yet loathsome site. YouTube. I rarely ever visit this site, and the only times I have, are when my 'friends' wanted me to see some 'sick' video. And usually, those sick videos were those of idiot skateboarders falling and crushing their testicles on a railing.

Yes, that's very sick.

For them, maybe.

I laughed. _They don't know the meaning of the word _sick.

I did a quick search, and found what I had looked for, hoping to kill time by listening to music. Clicking on the speaker icon, I turned the volume up, and listened as the music flooded the apartment.

Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy" blasted from the computer's speakers, and I hummed along quietly to the song, swinging my foot to the beat.

"Hey! Unlock the chain." I heard Dexter's voice yell.

I jumped up. The music must've been loud enough that I hadn't heard the lock on the door turn. I paused the song and removed the chain and stepped aside. Dexter set his bag down.

"What have you been up to?"

I shrugged. "Nothing really…music, watched TV, waited for you…got a few texts…"

"From?"

"Abel. And the killer again."

"Saying what?" he narrowed his eyes at me.

"That he loved seeing me today. Apologized for cutting my scalp up. Said I'd never be able to figure out who he was." I grimaced.

"You'll figure out who he is. You've seen his face, and found an address. Hopefully, this will lead you to him."

"Yeah, hopefully." I frowned.

"We'll leave soon, okay?"

I nodded and sat back down on the couch.

_Only a little while to go…._

. . .

Dexter had finished changing, now wearing his light brown thermal and cargo pants, along with a pair of work boots. He carried with him a duffel bag, most likely filled with the items he brought along while he stalked and captured his kills. I entered the now empty bedroom and changed out of the clothes I had worn all day, and put on a pair of black jeans, along with a pair of steel toed boots, and a black military style button down shirt.

It must look like I'm dressing up, in a way, but these clothes had become a uniform of sorts for when I killed.

I had gotten my tools back from Cole a few days after I moved in with Dexter, and now they would come in handy, should we come in contact with the killer. I opened the metal box; syringes, vials of sedatives, knives…they were all there. I put the case into my own duffel bag, which I had filled with a set of latex gloves, lock picks, and a hunting knife, that I had acquired years ago. It was a trophy from one of my victims.

He was a hunter. And, unfortunately for him, became my prey.

And once more I have become the predator, hunting the greatest game.

Humans.

_We'll see just how long you can elude me, my prey. I will find you. And when I do, there's no telling what I will do to you._

"You ready? It's getting late." Dexter asked through the door.

I opened it, and fixed my bag over my shoulder. "Yeah. I was just getting my things ready."

He looked me up and down. "Nice little get-up, there."

"I try and look my best when I kill." I said, jutting my chin out.

He laughed a little, a small smile on his face. "What's in the bag?"

"My tools. What's in yours?" I asked, nodding toward his duffel bag.

"The same thing. Why not leave yours home?"

I shook my head. "I'm not risking leaving anything behind. If he breaks in and finds my things and drops them on Metro's doorstep, my prints are all over these blades; the cops are gonna wonder what an eighteen year old is doing with a set of knives and potentially lethal sedatives."

"You've got a point."

"I know. Now let's leave already." I said impatiently.

"Do you remember the address?" he asked.

"I've been repeating it like a mantra, Dexter. It's 4786 Sterling Drive."

"That's not too far." He opened the door. "After you."

. . .

With the car parked at the end of the block, Dexter and I made our way down the street with our bags in hand, toward the house. The block was dark, quiet. Perfect for us, in that there would be less of a chance of being seen by a neighbor, or by the killer.

The house was just ahead on the opposite side of the street, shrouded in a veil of shadows. Dexter and I could not have possibly found better conditions to check out the house in. We crossed the street and entered the alleyway beside the house, sticking close to the walls to avoid being seen, and approached the gate leading to the backyard. Dexter shut the metal gate quietly behind us, and as I set foot on the grass, something pounced on me. Had I not instantly realized it was nothing more than an excited dog, I would have killed it. Instead, I pet the dog until it had relaxed, and hit the dog on the base of its skull, rendering the animal unconscious. I lifted the body and set it down in a safe area. We continued on toward the back door of the house. I put on a pair of gloves and urged Dexter to do the same while he kept watch as I picked the lock.

After a minute or so, the lock finally gave, and the door opened. We crept inside, careful not to knock into anything, or make any noise. Silently, I scaled the walls, wishing I could take my shoes off to ensure that I would make no noise whatsoever. Dexter followed closely behind, and suddenly groaned, but quickly stifled the noise that escaped from his lips. My head snapped around.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

He nodded.

I took a deep breath and continued, searching in the darkness of the house for any signs that the Ghost might be here, in the house. I could hear the rustling of sheets. I planted a hand on Dexter's chest, making him stop, and froze in the middle of the hall. My body tensed.

Blinds crashed against the window. I refuse to move.

Is that the killer?

Or an innocent family?

I listened closely, over the pounding of my heart, for any further signs of movement, and there were none. I snuck a glance at Dexter, and saw through the light shining in the home, his face contorted in a grimace.

I focused my attention ahead of me once more, and peered into the darkness. Out of one of the rooms, a figure appeared. It stood at about six feet in height, a thin, muscular frame. The light bounced off of the person's shaven head. A lone blue eye shone in the moonlight.

"So nice to see you in person again, darling."

That voice.

He's…he's here.

I tore the knife from my bag and lurched forward, gripping the blade tightly, as the duffel bag crashed to the floor. Dexter stood motionless behind me. He moved to interfere.

"This isn't your fight, stay out of it!"

Dexter paused, and watched, unable to help.

I gripped the man's neck and squeezed with all of my strength, crushing his windpipe. The killer choked and swung his fist upward into my ribs.

I staggered backward, but recovered quickly, and lunged at him again, this time holding the blade outward. I jabbed my right hand forward, catching his side, tearing a hole in his shirt. I could feel the metal sinking into his flesh. He hissed in pain, and clutched his wound. With my left hand I swung forward, my fist connecting with the temporomandibular joint. His jaw cracked loudly.

The killer knocked his body into me, toppling me over. I kicked, catching him in the groin. He dropped to his knees. Again I kicked, hitting the opposite side of his jaw. He wailed in pain.

Unexpectedly, he stood, and ran into one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. I raced after him. I stopped in the doorway as he dove out of the bedroom window and hit the ground with a thud. His footsteps pounded on the pavement as he ran from the house.

"Son of a fucking bitch." I yelled. "I've gotta go after him."

Dexter gripped my shoulders. "Let him go. If you go after him now, you'll be seen. Let's keep searching the house. We still don't know if he's killed anyone here."

My eye twitched. "Fine."

My heart beat at an incredible rate, blood rushing through my veins. My senses intensified. I felt crazed. The need to kill grew. I gripped the blade and began stabbing at the walls, suppressing a scream from escaping my lungs.

"Calm. Down." Dexter half shouted, pinning me against the wall. "You're going to get us caught if you keep this up."

I calmed myself as much as I could, the rush from the previous fight still strong. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just keep calm."

Dexter let me go. I stuck the blade into my bag, and walked out into the living room. Dexter followed along beside me. His face pulled into the same grimace he had made a few minutes ago, but this time, he seemed disgusted.

"Something wrong?" I asked quietly. "You look sick."

"You don't smell anything?"

I stepped backwards until I was next to him, and breathed in deeply, sniffing the air around me. A small, yet putrid smell began to poison the air. I followed the smell.

"Check the bedrooms, Dex. I'm gonna look for whatever's causing this smell." I made a face. "Maybe the dog shit in here, or something."

I skulked about the house, checking each room I passed, but found nothing that could have caused the smell. I climbed the stair case leading to what seems to be a media room. It was a large, open space, almost half the size of the house. And definitely the source of the smell.

I crouched low to the floor, and moved quietly across the expanse of carpet. With each step I took, a squishing noise was made. I stood, fully erect, and stepped down on the carpet. The same noise was made again. I found a light switch.

I wish I had kept it off….

The light revealed a rather disgusting sight. Blood had soaked the tan carpet, leaving it a dirty brown color. Bodies were scattered around the room. The family living here was killed. The children were gutted like fish, their entrails removed and placed in the shape of a circle around their bodies. Excrement was spread on the walls and on the bodies. The room reeked of piss and shit.

A message had been scrawled on the wall in the victim's blood.

"_Alexi, I'm coming for you."_

"Fuck!" I growled through clenched teeth, spit collecting at the corners of my lips. "Fuck!"

At that moment, my cell phone rang. I answered the call.

"Who is it?"

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't recognized my number by now." the voice said, in mock disappointment.

"Oh. It's you." I spat. "How wonderful of you to call. I didn't think you would, after I beat the shit out of you. Isn't your pride a little wounded?"

He scoffed. "I knew you'd love to hear from me again. I figured I'd make your night a little interesting, make you go after me. Seeing as you like the chase and all."

"I do enjoy the chase, you're right about that, but-"

I walked toward the railing. "What the fuck?"

The killer started talking again. "Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten? I called the police about five minutes ago. To alert them of a murder, that is. And that the killers are still inside." he let out a menacing cackle. "If I were you, I'd run."

"Dexter! We've gotta leave, the cops are here!"

"I know! Hurry." he called, opening the back door.

I bounded down the stairs, slipping on the throw rug at the end of the staircase. I regained my balance and took off, holding my bag close so that it would not fall, and I would not lose any of my belongings.

The red and blue lights of the cop cars lit the home as I reached the back door. I hopped down the stair case. I looked for Dexter, my heart beating rapidly, pounding against my ribs like a beast trying to free itself from its cage. Dexter grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward a fence. We hopped over the metal and ran, getting as far away from the house as we possibly could. We reached the block before his apartment building and stopped, hunched over, trying to catch our breath.

Cop cars whizzed past, none of them paying any mind to the two citizens in black carrying duffel bags, doubled over on the sidewalk.

Dexter spoke. "They're going to call me in."

"Shit. And you don't have your car, either."

He swore. "I'll just have to walk to the scene. I can get my car in the morning." Dexter looked around. "It's not a bad walk, I can go back."

"Hopefully no one notices you. What about your bag, though?"

"I can put it in the car. I have my one for work in there, too."

"Alright…Well…what about me?" I frowned. "My name is written on the wall in the victims' blood. They're gonna call me in again."

"You were never there, Lexi. You're just being targeted. You've had things happen before. They'll question you and let you go." he reassured me.

"If you say so…can we go back to the apartment?"

"You can. I've gotta leave. Here," he handed me the keys to his apartment. "Get home, and be safe. Call me when you're there."

"Alright. Bye, Dex. Oh! Where me and the killer fought…check for blood, okay?"

Dexter nodded. "Will do."

We both turned in opposite directions and walked away. I cursed at myself the whole way home for not having killed him while I had the opportunity. I could've slit his throat right there in the hall.

I pray though, that his blood dripped on the floor, and that he can be identified.

Maybe that will help me find my next victim.


	34. Keeping the Water Still

**12 A.M**

Dexter had finally returned from the crime scene, and by then I was already changed into my pajamas and laying down on the couch. Underneath the cushion I stashed a kitchen knife, in case anyone but Dexter had entered the apartment. I looked up at him. Dexter smiled tiredly at me and kicked his shoes off. He took a seat next to me on the couch.

"Was everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything was fine. I was almost raped on the way home, but eh."

"What?" he choked.

I laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm kidding. Bad joke. But in all seriousness, everything was fine. I got home okay, and the apartment was fine when I walked in. No intruders or signs of a break in."

"Good." he nodded. "I've gotta go into work tomorrow. So, I'll wake you up when I leave."

"Okay." I yawned. "Did you find any-"

"Of his blood? Yes. It trailed from the spot where you fought, to the window sill. You must've cut him deep."

"That was the point. I wanted blood left behind. Come to think of it," I stretched, "you could have tested the blood from my knife."

He pursed his lips and nodded his head. "Yeah, I could've done that."

"Anyway, at least there's blood."

"And a good amount of it. This should help." Dexter got up. "You should go to bed."

"And so should you. Goodnight, Dexter."

"Goodnight."

Dexter ambled down the hall and into his bedroom. The door creaked as it shut behind him.

. . .

Dexter woke me up and let me know that he was leaving for work. I mumbled my goodbye and rolled over and fell back to sleep.

. . .

Hours later I awoke, sometime late in the afternoon, groggy, despite the fact that I had slept well over ten hours. I sat up and stretched, cracking the bones in my back, and getting the kinks out of my neck. I always hated sleeping on the couch.

. . .

After pulling an outfit out of the drawer in Dexter's dresser that he had allotted for my belongings, I ran the water for a bath. Before pulling up the drain, I allowed the water to heat up. Funny, that in the ninety degree weather, I choose to take a bath.

Oh well.

The tub filled, and I went into the kitchen. I checked the drawers and found what I'd been looking for. One of Dexter's knives, a meat cleaver, I removed from its spot and returned to the bathroom. You may think I'm being paranoid, but I look at it as being prepared for a visit from the killer. Or one of his accomplices, if there are any.

I believe there are. There is no way this man is working alone. He is always one step ahead of me, if not more. Thirty, maybe. I sighed heavily and stepped into the hot water. Instantly I began to feel relaxed. The hot water soothed my tense, tired muscles. Then I washed.

I sunk down into the tub until only my eyes were above the soapy water. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds; the droning of the air conditioner, the pipes carrying water throughout the complex, and the…the door opening?

My body remained completely still, and my ears listened closely. The lock clicked, signaling that it was open. But whoever was at the door, could not make it past the chain. They slammed into the door, until the small chain had snapped, granting the intruder access.

Slowly, I slid out of the tub, careful not to disturb the water. I pulled my shirt and pants on and clutched the cleaver. The blade pressed against my chest, nicking my skin, even through the fabric. Figuring it would be best to draw the intruder to me so that apprehension would be easier, my hand reached out and flicked the light switch to the OFF position. I gripped the switch tightly and pulled down, snapping the object off of the wall, and proceeded to open the door a crack as well.

Footsteps trailed closer. And closer. My muscles became rigid. I shifted into the space between the door and wall, and waited for the unknown person to step into the bathroom. The door pushed open slowly.

"Hm?"

The intruder tried turning the light on. I approached them slowly. I swung my arm around to cover their mouth. With the heavy handle of the knife, I drove the blunt end into their temple. The intruder's body became limp. They dropped to the floor.

Stepping over the slack body, gripped their ankle and pulled them out into the hall to better see their face. Despite their large frame, the body was light, and proved to be easy to move. I stared down.

I sighed at the body, grinning slightly.


	35. A Sudden Realization

I sighed at the body, grinning slightly.

Blood trickled from the person's temple. I crouched down beside the body and pressed two fingers to the neck to check their pulse; it had slowed, but the heart was still beating. I trailed the blade down the torso. Tiny holes were made in the fabric.

I left the body in search of a roll of duct tape. I opened the drawers of Dexter's desk and found two rolls. I quickly got to work. The body I stripped of its clothes. The exposed flesh pimpled in the cold air. I pulled off a large piece of tape and covered the mouth, then worked my way down.

The wrists…

The legs…

And just to be safe, I wrapped the knees and thighs, to ensure that they would not be able to move.

My heart pumped faster as I worked. In a way, I almost felt…giddy. After not having killed in so long, it felt nice returning to my old routine, prepping the bodies for slaughter. But I could not kill here, no. This is Dexter's apartment; his girlfriend and her children have been here. Debra is aware of her brother and I, but Rita is not. God forbid she enters the apartment while I am lost in my own little world of blood and torture…she'll have me arrested.

And if that happens…well, that won't be good.

So, I suppose it's best then that I save the body for later until Dexter arrives home from work. At least if I know that he is here, I can finish this in peace.

I plopped down on the floor beside the body and watched his bare chest rise and fall with each shallow breath. His pale, naked flesh seemed to glisten in the light, and regrettably my thoughts wandered back to that loathsome vampire love story an old friend of mine had made me read.

What kind of vampires sparkle?

Just then, the handle on the door turned. With one swift movement, my body sprung to its feet, and flew backward, and pressed up against the wall. Once more I readied the knife. Adrenaline began kicking in. My heart pounded in excitement. The sheer thrill of having yet another target land right into my hands nearly caused me to laugh out loud. I contained that laughed, and crept toward the door, using it as cover. It opened.

As the figure set foot into the apartment, I lunged forward, grabbing them from behind, and delivered another almost fatal blow to the temple. This body fell just like the last. I flipped them over and examined their features.

Just like the last victim, this one had a shaven head as well. He seemed to be a young male; maybe in his late teens. His face had been hardened, compassion, emotion sucked out of him, leaving him with nothing but blank eyes and a snarled lip. I stripped this one as well, and secured his body with what was left of Dexter's tape.

I'd have to remember to purchase more for him later.

He was heavier than the last. His body was adorned with tattoos, and nothing of the professional kind; they were mediocre at best, the quality of the ink akin to what you would find a prisoner using to mark his body with gang related insignia. Across his stomach, a phrase was written. When he wakes, I shall ask what it means. I have no time to decipher his cheap markings. I placed him next to the other.

Footsteps sounded outside of the apartment. Light footfall on the concrete balcony came closer and closer until they poised outside of the apartment door.

Shit, another one? I groaned. Silence didn't concern me at this point. The next being to walk through the door will have this blade driven into the flesh of their neck.

A key inserted into the lock. I calmed slightly, but my tension was not fully relieved. What if it is Rita? Does she even had a key? I dropped to the floor, and allowed panic to consume me. I became fully distressed, my body began to shake uncontrollably, the tremors shaking the blade out of my hand. It dropped with a thud beside me. The door opened, and I hugged my knees to my body.

"What happened?" Dexter's voice said.

I calmed myself, and regained composure rather quickly. I spoke to Dexter in a matter-of-fact voice. "These two broke in while I was bathing. I incapacitated the both of them with a blow to the temple, then restrained them with the tape."

_Holy shit, thank god it wasn't Rita, huh?_

"Do you have any idea who they are?"

"I assume they work alongside the killer. Impressionable teens, looking to make a quick buck. So they aid the stranger and carry out a few jobs. That's how it goes with the little gang bangers. I mean, look at the tattoos." I pointed out the crude black and white ink drawings on their skin.

"You think they had anything to do with the murders?" he asked, kneeling on the floor beside me.

I shrugged. "With the one last night, yes. But the one a few weeks ago, no. These idiots couldn't have pulled off a stunt like that. No, there's a much larger, more skilled team working the big jobs."

"Big jobs?"

"The murders. The ones affiliated with the school slaughter; the principal, all that. Last night was just another homicide. Nothing bad…well, if you leave out the ritualistic aspect of the killing. And the message scrawled in blood…" I faced him. "Are they ever going to bring me in?"

"Uh, yes, actually. I informed Batista that I had taken you in."

My eyes widened. "You did?"

"Yes. And he is going to send another detective over to ask you a few questions." he turned away to study the two bodies. "They'll be over tomorrow. And I'll be here when it happens."

"Alright…but now, what do we do with these two?"

"You're the one the knocked them out and tied them up, you tell me."

"I'll just have to wait for them to wake, then. And then I'll question them." I stood up. "In the meantime, TV?"

"Sure." he gave a small smile and stood.

Bending down, I grabbed the ankle of one of the goons. "You just gonna stare at my ass, Dex, or are you going to help me drag that other bastard over?"

"Over where?" he asked, grabbed the kid's ankle.

"Preferably in front of the door. So that I can see them wake."

. . .

With a half hour gone by, only one had begun to stir. The other, the second boy that I had rendered unconscious, should wake soon. I tapped Dexter's thigh and pointed over toward them. The first intruder began wriggling, panicking as he realized he had been captured. The two of us walked over toward them and stood over the bodies. Upon hearing the first moan and thrash around, the second's eyes opened. He stayed calm, and stared at us both.

"Where the fuck are we?" the first asked. His pale green eyes flitted around the room, his chest heaved with each breath.

"You're still in the apartment you broke into." I smirked. "You underestimated me, didn't you?"

"Who are you?" the second said.

"I could ask you the same thing." I leaned down and picked the blade off the floor. "Now, I believe you know that this could end badly, correct?"

The two send nothing. Simply stared. The smaller boy shook.

"I'll take that as a yes. So, either you cooperate, or, I'll hack you to pieces right here on the floor." I smiled. "Who the hell are you two?"

"We were hired by s-some guy…he told us to break in here…and if we found you, to bring you back to h-him." the smaller one stammered. "He promised us that we could get into some group of h-his."

"Group?" I asked curiously. "What kind of group."

"He said it's made of a bunch of killers. He promised protection and…and that we'd never get caught." he sniffled. "Please don't hurt us…"

I looked at the other boy. "Do you have anything to say?"

"Fuck off." he spat.

"Ooh, we have a feisty one, here, Dexter." I grinned at him. I stepped over the kid's body, my legs on either side of his shoulders. I swung the cleaver from side to side, letting the handle slip slowly from my finger tips. "Now what did I tell you about cooperating?"

He glared. I made a _tsk_ sound. "I guess you haven't learned yet." I dropped the heavy blade. It landed on the floor, the tip of the knife sunk into the carpet. It had cut the boy's ear on the way down, taking a nice chunk of skin off of the appendage. He hissed in pain.

"Do you boys have names?"

"A-Adam."

The other glowered at me. I laughed. "Let me guess, you're Adam's companion Eve? Don't try to act tough while you're naked an duct taped on the floor, kid. Just give me your name."

"Ivan."

"Ivan…you're being a little difficult. Maybe that's 'cause we're not on good terms with each other. Why not chill out and be nice, huh?" I said, reaching down and squeezing the injured ear. "What's that tattoo of yours say? The one on your stomach."

"Liberari de caelo auxilium suum a malo terrae." he hissed.

Ah, I smiled. The…motto of the Brotherhood.

_Delivered from Heaven, protecting His earth from evil._

Yes, at one point we were soldiers of god. But now...now, we only rid the world of evil. Our connection with the lord himself has been eradicated and replaced by a need to rid the world of the pestilence that is mankind.

We will not extinguish it from this earth, but only improve it. We will kill, one by one, the malignancies that plague the human race, therefore bettering it, and creating a safer environment.

One that lives in fear.

And I will make sure of that.

Man will fear Death's hand.

And I, I am Death. If I have to drive fear into the hearts of these boys in order to get answers, I will. I will make them tell me just who sent them.

Once I find out, I will dispose of these two worthless children, and seek out the fuck who ordered them to find me.

"I see your boss has marked you already, hmm?" I snickered. "Unfortunately for you, that is only a cheap imitation of the true Brotherhood crest. Ours are seared into our flesh."

I pulled my shirt up to expose my scarred ribs. A large shield, embossed with a thorn covered inverted cross, with the Latin phrase burned underneath decorated my skin. On my twelfth birthday, I was given this marking. This was to show that I am a true killer, a true member of the Brotherhood. Not a goon like these boys.

"So were you recruited by him, too?" Ivan asked.

_These boys were recruited by a Brother…hmm…but who? It's not like one of us to pick off people on the street. _

"No. I was born into this."

"Really? You were born into a…gang?" Adam said. He seemed to be in disbelief.

"We're not a gang, and yes, I was born into this."

Ivan spoke. "We…so does that mean you know the guy who made us come here?"

"Supposedly I do know him. But, I have no idea who he is. Tell me about him, and maybe I'll let you go."

"Will you really?"

"Yes. Cooperate with me, and you won't leave here in a garbage bag." I said darkly. "What'd this guy look like?"

"He was kinda tall…like a little taller than him." Ivan nodded toward Dexter. "And he has a shaved head. Blue eyes. Kinda old lookin'. He don't look mean, though. Wouldn't think this guy would be in a gang." He chuckled. "Anyways, he's got some fucked up skin on his neck. A hawkish nose."

"Yeah, yeah." Adam agreed.

"Did you get a name?" Dexter asked.

"He said it was Ossie or some shit. There was another guy, too. They mentioned some chick, but she was never there. They'd only call her." I van said, his brow furrowing. "That other guy was a big, tall creepy dude. He had short, dark hair. Couldn't tell his eye color. Maybe green or blue, I don't remember. He was buff…ish."

"Ish?" I asked.

I pressed my lips into a firm line. _Where had I heard that name before? It sound so familiar…_

"Yeah, like he was toned and shit."

I nodded. "Did they ever talk about this…girl?"

"Nah. Not really. They always had to call, though. They always had to report back to her. She was like the head honcho. Heh. A bitch in control." he scoffed.

"Well, this bitch is in control, now. Anymore shit you can tell me?"

"All I can say is that there's a bunch of people in on whatever's going on. Cops an' shit, too."

"Cops?" I choked.

"Yeah, they got people on the inside. So watch your back. Cause you seem to be in deep shit, lady."

"What the fuck…?" I looked at Dexter. "How much shit is going on?"

He just shook his head. "I don't know…but we've gotta be extra careful."

"Hey, what's going on here, anyway?" Adam asked. He looked to have relaxed a bit since Ivan and I began talking. His stutter had ceased.

"Nothing. Just some people aren't liking me, lately." I exhaled. "Is this all you two have to offer? Meaning, is this all you can tell me?"

Ivan stared off, thinking. Adam chewed his lower lip. While these two thought, I pondered on the familiarity of the name. Where had I heard it? I swear the name has come up a few times during my life. Someone I know has used it…but who is it…

"We ain't got nothing more for ya, miss. Sorry."

"It's fine…" I muttered distantly.

Who used the name….

"Can we go now?"

God dammit, I know this…

"What are you thinking? Have you come up with anything?" Dexter asked quietly, yet urgently. I put a finger up.

Son of a bitch…who-

"Fuck! It's Nikolai's brother's name!"

My head could've exploded at the realization. My heart pounded, my senses flooded. My brain was now on overdrive, questions pouring in. I felt like tracking him down, but at the same time I wanted to wait for them to find me again…

Oh god…what's going on here?


	36. Doubts

Oh god…what's going on here?

"Lexi, who the hell is Ossie?" Dexter asked. He pulled me aside, away from the boys.

I stared blankly at the wall behind him. "Ossie is the nickname for Nikolai's brother Oscar. I'd never met him, though. Nikolai said he died a few years ago, maybe around my eleventh birthday. Same time my parents died, actually."

So now Nikolai is involved in this. Has he been the entire time? I don't understand how he could ever harm me, let alone try to completely…destroy me. This whole situation makes no sense whatsoever. Cops being involved…other people.

One giant operation…all of them bent on taking me down. What had I done? Why is everyone after me?

Returning to the boys, I said, "I'll let the two of you go. But so help me god, if you two speak a word of this, I'll kill you myself before they get a chance to."

"You'd never be able to find us. We're with him, now." Ivan said defiantly.

"What do you mean 'with him'." I narrowed my eyes.

"He's got us staying at some house a few blocks away from here. He's protecting us. As long as we help him, anyway."

"I see. Now, what is the address of this house you speak of?"

"I won't give that up, lady."

"If you don't, I'll fucking kill you." I growled, and flung the cleaver again. The blade landed next to Adam's side. He cursed.

"It's 913 Willow Ave." Adam stammered. "He's keeping us there."

Hmm. If I'm not mistaken, that is the block behind my own house. And the house directly behind my own. No wonder he was able to get away so quickly the night he knocked me out. That also explains how he was able to watch my movements. Although, there are more people that I need to find. They gave me decent descriptions, yes, but I need a name.

At least now I know that Nikolai is a part of this, and most likely the ring leader. If I can get to him, I could find the rest.

My mind wandered back to the Hyde brothers. Abel has been trying to get me to come back home for a good while. He could either be worried, or helping Ashby. He was always Nik's pet. Cole…he couldn't possibly have anything to do with this. We are far too close, and knowing him, he would have cracked under pressure by now and told me everything.

And if he hadn't told me, he would have killed himself.

I need to get in contact with him. Hopefully I can get Cole out of there, and work with him. The more people I have on my side, the better. With the cops on my back, though, this will be difficult, but there is nothing that I cannot handle. I have the Morgan's, who could aid in throwing off the police. I need to make use of my resources.

"Ivan, Adam? Were you involved in the murders from the other night?" my voice sounded soft, which surprised me.

"Yeah, we were. That guy told us to kill that family and do all that other nasty shit. He hid in one of the downstairs bedrooms. Said he knew you'd follow him there."

_So it was those two rattling the blinds. They must've jumped out the window to escape in time. And he stayed behind._

But the man didn't look anything like Nikolai.

Strange. Who could he have been, then? I still feel as if I know him, I just cannot figure out exactly who he is, and what place he has, or had, in my life.

"Did he also know that I was going to kick the shit out of him?"

"Nope, but he was pretty pissed. Said if he could, he'd have slit your throat. He didn't expect you to fight him."

A Brother that lacks fighting skills, how funny…he must prefer taking his targets out with weapons, rather than personally. To avoid fighting, I assume.

_"I can tell you what I can say. You take after your mother." I could practically hear him grinning behind me. "She was a bit twisted, too. Your father on the other hand…he was the more detached killer."_

_"Oh? How so?" My anger slowly began to rise._

_"He was never personal, that's all. He preferred taking his victims out with a gun from a distance, whereas both you and your mother tend to capture the victim and proceed to torture them for an extended period of time, then finally kill." He chuckled. "Remember Nixon Adler?"_

The killer had said my father was exactly like that. Not a fighter, he couldn't hold up well in hand to hand combat. That explains his death…a mugging. Probably couldn't fight the guy off. But…how does a contract killer die from a mugging? I settled with that reason my whole life, I believed that was how they died…but now…it sounds so…_un_believable.

What if they are alive?

What if they're a part of this?

When I lived in Salers with my parents, they were never around. If the two of them were involved, I suppose it would be understandable if I did not recognize them. It has been years since they 'died', and before that event, I never saw their faces. There wasn't even a family photo to prove I was their child. As far as I'm concerned, they took me in to train another killer.

I could have led a normal life, if it weren't for them….

Ossie…why use that name? And what is that a nickname for?

"How many men were there?" I asked.

"Three." Adam answered.

So one of them is Ossie, the other most likely Nikolai, and another unknown. And then there is the female that they mentioned. The one they report to. I stared at the boys firmly and decided it would be best to release them rather than kill them. If I let them go, they'll keep in touch with the group. And maybe if I promise to protect them, they can act as informants.

But who's to say they won't kill them for not getting their job done?

There's a risk involved in sending these kids back, but it's one worth taking. Adam and Ivan could prove to be useful.

Grabbing the knife, I got to work cutting the duct tape off of their bodies. Enough was cut off so that they could move, and remove the remaining strips of tape. They pulled the tape off, cursing as the adhesive clung to their skin and tore patches of hair out. I tossed their clothes over.

"I have a proposition for the two of you."

"A what?" Ivan asked.

_Idiot. _

"A deal." I cleared my throat. "I can ensure that you both are never harmed by either members of the gang you were recruited into, as long as you both act as informants, and _never _speak of this day."

"How are we not supposed to talk about this? Nik wants us to tell him exactly what happened."

I grinned. _Nik. These boys are awful at keeping secrets. But maybe the threat of death will make them keep their pretty little mouths closed._

_One can only hope._

"Simply tell him I wasn't here. That I must have left the apartment before you had arrived. That you waited a few hours, but I hadn't come back." I shrugged. "Lying should come easy for hoodlums like you."

"Hey! We're not hoodlums." Adam's face scrunched up.

"Then what are you?" I asked, slightly amused at his defensiveness.

"Skinheads. _And _we're part of your Brotherhood thing." he said proudly.

"Well. As I said, lying should come easy. And if you do as I say, and report back to me, you will never be harmed."

"No one'll come after us?"

"No one will. I promise."

"I don't know…"

"There is no 'I don't know'. You either do it, or I'll send _your _heads to their home as a little present." I threatened.

Ivan's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. "Fine. We'll do it."

"You will?"

"Yes." I looked them both in the eye. "Now leave. And never speak of this. I'll find you if I need to contact you."

"How will you be able to track us down?"

"Don't worry about that. Now, go." I stepped behind the door as the two walked out of the apartment.

Dexter sighed. "That takes care of those two. Do you have any idea who we're going after now?"

_We? I thought, and quirked an eyebrow. I thought this was all about me finding them. _

"I know exactly who to go after. I need to find this Ossie the boys mentioned. I know they're staying at the house behind mine. Across the street from their home, is an abandoned house; the lawn is overgrown, the windows have been boarded over…it's a perfect place to watch over them."

"But wouldn't they know what you're up to?"

Who exactly is watching me, I hadn't bothered to ask. Most likely the boys. Keeping tabs on me is a smaller job, while planning out my demise…well, that's for them to handle.

"It's probably those hoodlums that were watching me. After today, I think they'll back off a bit."

"You think so?"

"Mhm. Even that little prick Ivan looked scared when I threatened them. And after being able to subdue them in seconds flat, they should know what I'm capable of."

A distant look settled in Dexter's eyes. I followed his gaze. It trailed down to my stomach. His eyes remained there for a few seconds before returning to my face.

"What?"

His mouth opened, but only a strained sound escaped.

"You seem bothered by something."

"They really branded you?" he asked. His voice was gentle, tentative.

"Yeah…they did. It's a way of showing that we've reached our full potential…think of it as a sort of black belt. Expert killers are marked with the brand."

"Aren't you all marked with it? You're all trained killers."

"Yes, we all are, but not all of us are born with the same ability. The way to differentiate the exceptional from the average, is by our markings. Those with lesser abilities are tattooed; their ribs or back are adorned with the Brotherhood crest, whereas people like myself are branded. The reasoning for such markings has always eluded me, but I'm glad I'm not one of the weaker ones." I scowled.

"Why?"

"They get picked off quicker."

"What do you mean?"

"The…duds, are used in training exercises. They usually become the first target for us. We eliminate the weaker members."

My gaze diverted to the floor. I laughed bitterly. "My first kill was quite an experience, if you ask me."

"How? What'd you do?"

"I killed my best friend." I turned away from Dexter and returned to the couch. "If you're not busy later, would you like to accompany me to the house across from Ossie's?" I asked, changing the subject.

I never liked to speak of my first kill.

"Sure, yeah."

. . .

"Oh, you're finally eating?" Dexter asked. He dried his hair with his towel.

"Mhm." I responded, taking a bite out of a baked potato. "This is perfect, considering I don't eat much." I stared at the spud. "Complex carbs; slow digesting, and release sugars into the bloodstream slowly, which will then return glycogen into the muscle tissue."

He smirked. "You know quite a bit. How'd you learn that?"

"Science. Glad I know that, because if I didn't load up on starches every now and again, I'd undergo muscle fatigue. And that wouldn't be good. But, are you ready?"

. . .

The clock had just turned 7:30. The hot Miami sun had set, and the moon rose. Buildings were cast in shadow, aiding Dexter and I in our attempt to remain hidden from the group watching over me. I cracked the lock on the front door of the abandoned house and walked in, swatting cobwebs out of my face. His flashlight clicked on, illuminating the living room, revealing a fully furnished room.

I set my bag down upon the coffee table and cleared a layer of dust and grime off of the window with a gloved hand. Disgusted, I discarded the latex, and placed another glove on my hand. Dexter and I glanced at each other simultaneously.

"And now we wait." I said.


End file.
